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Frontispiece. p. 69 





ON LONEMAN’S ISLAND 


BY 

MARY HUBBARD HOWELL 


AUTHOR OF 

“through the winter series,” “in one girl’s experience,” 

“ DOROTHY AND HER SHIPS,” ETC. 


• “We cannot drift away from God.” 

Faber. 



PHILADELPHIA 

THE AMEEICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION ' 


1183 Chestnut Street 

L. 


[Copyright, 1897, by The American Sunday-School Union] 



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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Boat Comes In 5 

11. In Job’s House 27 

III. We Two Alone 45 

IV. Through the Book 65 

V. What She Wanted 85 

VI. A Thought that Helped 101 

VH. Sending a Telegram 114 

VHI. In no Danger 128 

IX. Miss Brisk Appears 141 

X. On the Beach 154 

XI. What Each Needed 166 

XH. On the Yacht 186 

XIH. I Must Go 203 

XIV. Knowing Her Opportunity 224 

XV. The Reason Why 289 

XVI. Convinced at Last 252 

XVH. Away from Home 263 

XVHI. A Mystery Explained 280 

XIX. In a Queer Place 297 

XX. All Things Settled 312 




ON LONEMAN’S ISLAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

A BOAT COMES IN. 

“Thy lot or portion of life, said the Caliph Ali, is 
seeking after thee ; therefore be thou at rest from seek- 
ing after it.” 

Emerson, 

T ONEMAN’S ISLAND— a strip of land that 
seamen considered dangerous, and land- 
men called desolate — lay bright beneath the sun 
one summer morning not many years ago. 

The island, so called from its peculiar situa- 
tion, was in reality a part of the Atlantic sea- 
coast. On the west was a deep hollow, worn 
through the sand hills by the storms and winds 
of centuries ; on the north a wide bay separated 
it from the village of Greenfields ; and on the 
east, through Bass inlet, the bay and ocean 
came together. Low, wind-blown and storm- 
scarred dunes, covered with coarse grass and 
dwarfish bushes protected it on the south ; and 


6 


0-Y LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


beyond them stretched a broad, sandy beach, 
on which, with swirl of spray and roar of 
turbulent waters, broke ceaselessly the rough 
surges of the Atlantic. 

In the middle of the island was the lighthouse. 
It was a massive tower, one hundred and sixty 
feet high, flanked on the east and west by a low, 
substantial cottage ; the houses provided by the 
United States Government for the keeper of the 
lighthouse and his assistant. 

To this lonely, sea-girt island, when the light- 
house was first completed, David Power came 
as its keeper. With him he brought his wife 
and an infant daughter, and there, undisturbed 
and unenvied, lost to the world, and apparently 
well-content to be lost, they had lived until 
this summer morning. 

It was a warm but lovely morning, and as 
David sat at the breakfast table, with his wife 
and daughter, he said : 

I guess, if you feel like it, we’ll go crabbing 
to-day, Bethia.” 

“ Crabbing ! ” Bethia Power’s face and voice 
were both expressive of scorn. ‘‘ I wish I could 
go where I’d never see another crab,” she said, 
petulantly. 

David looked at his daughter in good-natured 
surprise. 

“ Why, Bethia,” he said, what is the matter 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


7 


with you ? Seems to me you are out of tune 
with this beautiful morning. Why don’t you 
want to go crabbing ? ” 

Bethia sat back in her chair, and folded her 
arms. “ Father,” she said, “ do you know that 
this is my birthday ? ” 

“Hey? what, your birthday?” David 
Power answered. Well, Bethia, I must own 
I’d forgotten it. Let me think — how old are 
you ? ” 

“ I am sixteen,” Bethia said, shortly. 

“ Sixteen,” her father repeated. “ Why, 
really, Bethia, you are quite a woman. I de- 
clare the years are just like the waves on the 
beach; one is no sooner here than it’s gone, 
and another’s come. It doesn’t seem longer 
ago than yesterday that you were a little baby 
in your cradle. And a real pretty baby, too,” 
David added, with a smile. 

“ Well,” Bethia said, laughingly, “ I am glad 
I was pretty in my cradle, but I am glad, too, 
that I’m out of it. And, father,” — and now the 
young voice grew very emphatic — “ I want to 
tell you and mother something. I am tired of 
this dreary old island, where nothing ever 
changes but the weather, and it’s my opinion 
that we have lived here long enough.” 

“ That’s your opinion, is it ? ” David Power 
said sharply, as he left the table. “ Well now, 


8 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND, 


Bethia, I think it is my turn to tell you some- 
thing ; and I’ll just say that it is my opinion 
that, when you are a few years older, you 
won’t think — as you do to-day — that your 
opinion is the only one in the world worth 
minding.” 

“ I think you might mind it anyway, father,” 
Bethia said, in a voice that seemed both to coax 
and reproach. 

David Power did not appear to hear his 
daughter’s remark. He put his old hat on his 
head, thrust his hands into his pockets, and 
walked to the open outside door. He stood 
there for several moments facing the ocean, and 
watching with sober eyes two or three sea gulls 
that were skimming over the waves along the 
shore. 

‘‘ Bethia,” he called, presen tl}^, “ come here.” 

“ I haven’t any time to waste,” the girl said, 
a little ungraciously, as she obeyed her father. 

David did not notice her impatience. 
“Beth,” he said gently, while he pointed to 
the birds, “ I am just like one of those sea gulls. 
I can imagine just how one of them would feel 
shut up in a cage and carried away from the 
ocean. I have lived on this island so long that 
it’s come to seem a part of my very life, and I 
believe I Avould soon die if I were obliged to 
live in a town away from the beach and , the 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


water. But I know it isn’t right to expect 
young folks to feel like old ones. It isn’t ac- 
cording to nature for a young bird never to 
want to leave its nest ; and so I’ll tell you, 
Beth, what I’ll do for you. I will give you 
some money, and you can go to Greenfields and 
buy a new dress ; and then, if mother is will- 
ing, you may stay over there a few days and 
get it made. There, that will do for a change, 
won’t it?” And satisfied that the plan he 
had proposed was all she could desire, David 
drew his daughter to his side and kissed her 
fondly. “ For your birthday, you know,” he 
said, as if his unusual demonstration required 
some excuse. 

Bethia did not return her father’s kiss ; in 
truth she Avas hardly conscious of it. A little 
flash of light had brightened her broAvn eyes 
at the promise of a new dress, but in a second 
it faded, and she shook her head in disappro- 
val. 

“ That won’t do, hey ? ” her father said, as he 
watched her. “ Well, noAV, Bethia, if a girl 
can’t be satisfied with a neAV dress, I must own 
that I am not Avise enough to guess Avhat Avill 
content her.” 

“ NeAV dresses are very nice in some places,” 
Bethia said, soberly, “ but ” 

‘‘But Loneman’s Island isn’t the place for 


10 ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 

them — is that what you mean?” David asked, 
in a vexed voice. 

Bethia’s answer did not come at once. She 
loosened one of her long curls from the net in 
which it was confined, rolled it over her fingers, 
and then slowly unwound it. She seemed un- 
decided what to say. At last with a sudden 
increase of courage she pushed back her hair, 
and looked up at her father. 

Father,” she said, earnestly, ‘‘ I do w^onder 
what kind of a girl you think I am.” 

David looked puzzled. He felt as if he had 
just turned a page in a book he thought he 
knew by heart, and found it written in an un- 
known language. . 

“ What kind of a girl ? ” he repeated, in a 
slow, deliberate voice. “Why, Beth, I have 
always supposed you were about like other 
girls — only a great deal prettier than most of 
them,” he could not help adding, in his fatherly 
pride and affection. 

“ Like other girls,” Bethia echoed, in a voice 
at once sad and scornful. “Father, I don’t 
believe I am like any other girl in the world. 
I have lived on this island all my life. I’ve 
never been anywhere to visit : I’ve never been 
to school, and I’ve never had any young 
friends. I’ve seen nothing but sky, and water, 
and sand dunes. I know more about crabs and 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


11 


clcims than anything else ; and I am so ashamed 
of my ignorance, and so tired of living here, 
that I wish sometimes that I never had been 
born. There ! ’’ And now, having proved to 
her great disgust that she was not like other 
girls, Bethia sat down on the doorstep and, 
like any other girl, began to cry. 

David looked at his daughter with a painful 
consciousness of present helplessness and a fore- 
boding of future trouble. 

“ Why, Bethia,- ’ he said, gently, seems to 
me, you are not quite true when you talk about 
knowing nothing. Of course, we have never 
sent you to the school in Greenfields because 
we couldn’t let you cross the bay in the winter; 
but I am sure your mother and I have taken 
great paius to teach you.” 

“ Ye-es,” Bethia said, dolefully, you have 
taught me when I felt like studying, or you 
felt like teaching, father ; and I have been as 
far as fractions in arithmetic, and I can read 
and write ; and that is all I know, or am ever 

likely to know. Oh dear ” And once more 

Bethia’s sobs choked her voice. 

Come, come,” David said, persuasively, 
don’t cry so, Beth, I never supposed you felt 
like this. Come, stop crying, and just answer 
these questions : Where do you want to go ? 
and what do you want to do ? ” 


12 


ON LONGMAN'S ISLAND. 


I don’t know,” Bethia answered, as well as 
she could between her sobs. ‘‘ I don’t know 
enough to go anywhere, or to do anything. But 
this is a wide world, and somewhere there must 

be a place where I could learn ” the girl 

stopped abruptly. I don’t even know what I 
want to learn,” she said, in a moment, with a 
laugh that was almost hysterical. 

David Power’s face denoted strong and pain- 
ful emotion. I don’t blame you, Bethia, I 
don’t blame you,” he said, in a voice that his 
firm will kept calm and steady. “ It is natural 
— I suppose — since you are a bright girl, that 
you should feel as you do. But, Beth, you are 
very young, and you don’t know much about 
the world. It is wide — as you say — but 
it isn’t full of homes that we can step into 
when we like, and feel sure of being made 
welcome in. You may go all over the 
earth, Bethia, but in all its length and 
breadth you’ll never find another father and 
mother.” 

Bethia was a warm-hearted, impulsive girl, 
and now her father’s words touched her deeply. 

I don’t want to find another father and 
mother,” she sobbed. 

David laid his hand fondly on the bright, 
young head, It seems to me pretty certain, 
Bethia, that you don’t know when you are 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


13 


well off,” he said, gravely. You’ve got a 
good home, why can’t you be contented in 
it?” 

“ Because,” Bethia said, sadly, “ I want some- 
thing that I cannot have here. I don’t want 
to be discontented, but I do want — I cannot 
help it, father — I do want to have a change. 
I want to live where things happen. I am tired 
of marking my days by just the rising and the 
setting of the sun.” 

“ Days that you can only mark by just the 
rising and the setting of the sun have one merit 
— they are apt to be pretty free from trouble,” 
David said, wisely. 

Bethia did not answer, and in a minute her 
father spoke again. “ Come, Beth,” he said, 
“ there isn’t any use in talking on this subject 
any longer. It isn’t any use to try to reason 
with the unreasonable. Because you are six- 
teen years old you must not try to get up a 
declaration of independence, and expect me to 
agree to it. Things won’t happen any sooner 
because you are discontented and impatient. 
In fact, Beth, it is my belief, that it is to those 
that do the best they can where they are that 
changes for the better are most likely to come. 
And now I think you’d better go into the house 
and help your mother.” 

Bethia gave her father a peculiar look as she 


14 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


obeyed him and stepped back into the house. 
On the doorsill she paused. 

“ Haven’t you always done the best you 
could, father ? ” she demanded. “ Changes 
haven’t come to you, have they ? ” 

Ho ; I’ve never wanted them to come. 
I’ve been contented here,” David answered. 

“ I don’t believe in being contented then,” 
Bethia said, with decision. “ I want changes 
to come. I wish something would happen to- 
day. I don’t want to be a sponge and always 
stick where I first began to grow.” 

David Power sighed ; and when a few mo- 
ments later he was climbing the long iron stair- 
way leading to the great lamp at the top of the 
lighthouse his face still looked troubled. It 
has got to come,” he said, gloomily, to himself. 
“ I can see, plainly, that some way or other it 
is sure to come. Bethia is thirsty for a change ; 
and you can never quench that thirst with 
water from the old home pump.” Once more 
David sighed ; but by this time he had reached 
the lamp; and as he looked off at the great 
ocean, whose waters were flashing in the 
sunshine, his anxious face and voice grew 
calm. 

It can’t be my duty to make any change, 
seeing that I don’t know what would be best 
for Bethia,” he said, cheerfully, and dismissing 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


15 


all perplexing thoughts he applied himself 
resolutely to his work. 

An hour later, while he was still busy polish- 
ing the great lamp, Bethia ran breathlessly up 
the stairs. Father,” she called, as soon as 
she was near enough to be heard, come down. 
There’s a boat load of people at the dock, and 
I expect they are coming to see the light- 
house.’’ 

“ They must be very anxious to see it, to 
come so early in the day as this ; but curiosity 
does make people put themselves — and other 
folks too — to a good deal of inconvenience 
sometimes,” David soliloquized, as he reluc- 
tantly left his work and descended the stairs. 
He was used to escorting strangers over the 
lighthouse. Greenfields was a fashionable 
watering place, just across the bay, and during 
the bright summer days many a boat load of 
gay young people visited Loneman’s Island. 
He expected to see such a company now ; but 
as he opened the wide door that led into the 
hall of the tower, he faced a solitary man who 
looked nervous and anxious. 

“ Good-morning,” David said, pleasantly. 

The stranger took no notice of his salutation. 
“ Have you had smallpox ? ” he demanded, 
abruptly. 

David looked at the man as if he doubted his 


16 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


sanity. Hey, Avhat did you ask ? Have I had 
smallpox?” he managed to reply, in a mo- 
ment. “ Why, yes — to be sure — when I was 
in the army.” 

So they told me at the hotel in Green- 
fields,” the gentleman said, in a quick, excited 
voice, and that is why I have come to you.” 

“You’ve come to me because I’ve had small- 
pox,” David exclaimed, incredulously, as if he 
distrusted the testimony of his ears. 

“ Yes. My name is Gordon. I came with 
my family to Greenfields a week ago. My son 
has been ill for several days. This morning 
the physician decided that he has smallpox. 
We could not remain in the hotel — every one 
there was panic-struck. No one in the village 
would take us in, and we could not return to 
our home. We have been in great trouble ; 
we did not know what to do ; but the hotel 
proprietor told us of this island and advised our 
coming here. My poor boy is in the boat with 
his mother and the doctor. We found one man 
in the village who had had the disease, and he 
brought us across in a sailboat that I had to 
purchase. Now will you help us ? Money is 
no object ; you shall be amply recompensed for 
all you do for us.” 

David by this time had regained his usual 
composed, deliberate manner. 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


17 


There are some things that money cannot 
buy nor pay for,” he said, seriously. I don’t 
want your money. I will help you — if I can — 
for you’ve been sent here, and I suppose the 
Lord meant you should come; but I have a 
wife and a pretty little daughter. I must take 
care of them.” 

The cloud that had lifted a little from Mr. 
Gordon’s face at David’s promise of assistance 
fell again. “ I am sorry to have brought dan- 
ger to your family. You must pardon me, for 
I did not know that you had one. I understood 
that you lived here alone,” he said, in a voice 
that with each sentence grew more troubled. 

I didn’t give its name to this island,” David 
said, with grim humor ; “ and it isn’t my is- 
land either,” he continued, after a moment’s 
thought. It is government property, and I 
don’t know what government will say to me 
if I turn it into a hospital. But then, again, I 
don’t know what government is given property 
for if it isn’t with the expectation that it will 
always be used to help people who are in 
trouble, and so Mr. — Gordon, I believe you said 
your name was — I will tell you Avhat I can do 
for you.” 

“Well, what?” Mr. Gordon asked, in a 
manner that was imperious as well as impa- 
tient. “I will be grateful for a tent or any 


18 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


shelter you can give us; but we must act 
quickly. Eemember, my poor boy is waiting 
in the boat.” 

“ Yes,” David said, with an expressive nod, 
I guess I am not likely to forget him for some 
time to come. Well, Mr. Gordon, I believe I 
can give you something better than a tent. 
You see my assistant was a soldier, and we 
were comrades in the army ; he isn’t married, 
and so, though government provides him with 
a house just as good as mine, he boards with 
me. It is a pretty fortunate thing for us all 
now that he has had smallpox, too. His house 
isn’t furnished, and he doesn’t make any use of 
it ; so if you’ve brought your things along you 
can just move right in there and make your- 
selves comfortable.” 

There is no hope of our being comfort- 
able,” Mr. Gordon said, gloomily. “We have 
brought nothing to furnish a house with.” 

“ Well, to own the truth, I didn’t suppose you 
had,” David answered. “ It isn’t a very bright 
prospect for you, but then things are never so 
bad that we can’t find some way to make them 
better, if we don’t get discouraged and give up 
trying. How Job is a kind-hearted fellow, and 
he’ll help you all he can, and so will I ; and all 
I ask is, that you’ll try not to let any harm 
come to my wife and little girl. I don’t 


A BOAT COMES IN, 


19 


think” — and David’s calm voice trembled a 
little now — “ I really don’t think I could bear 
that.” 

‘‘ The doctor shall vaccinate them at once, 
and he assured me this morning that there is 
never much danger of contagion when one is 
forewarned and observes every precaution,” 
Mr. Gordon said ; “ and I promise you that we 
will be very careful.” 

“ I don’t doubt but you’ll try to be,” David 
said, soberly. Well, it isn’t any use to worry 
about danger now. You are here, and it is m}^ 
duty to take you in ; so go and bring your 
folks up to the house, Mr. Gordon, and I’ll go 
and put my family in quarantine.” 

With a serious face but a quick step David 
hastened to his own cottage. Bethia met him 
at the door. 

“ Father,” she asked, curiously, ‘‘ who are 
those people in that boat ? Aren’t they com- 
ing up to the lighthouse ? ” 

“ Yes, they are coming,” David said, in a 
stern, decided voice. “ Providence brings a 
great many boats with strange passengers safe 
to shore, but this is just about the most un- 
welcome boat that ever touched Loneman’s 
Island.” 

“ Why, what is the matter with it, father ? ” 
asked Mrs. Power, as she turned from the 


20 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


table where she was rolling out pie-crust, and 
looked smilingly at her husband. “ It hasn’t 
got smallpox aboard of it, has it ? ” 

David fairly jumped. ‘‘ How came you to 
think of that, mother ? ” he exclaimed. “ I do 
declare and afBrm that I don’t believe there is 
a man in the world that can beat a smart wo- 
man at guessing.” 

Mrs. Power’s placid, good-natured face grew 

pale. ‘^Father, you don’t mean ” she 

began. 

‘‘ Yes, I do mean it,” David said, emphat- 
ically. “Here was Bethia wishing a little 
while ago that something would happen. 
Well, something has happened; and it isn’t 
likely to bring much good to her nor anyone 
else. Those folks in that boat have come to 
Loneman’s Island just because there wasn’t 
another place in the world that they could go 
to. Their boy has got smallpox, and in all 
Greenfields they couldn’t find a good Samar- 
itan that would take them in. I don’t myself 
feel very much like being a good Samaritan to 
them, but if we won’t help people who are in 
trouble we are pretty near relations to Cain, I 
think ; and so, mother, and Bethia, here is the 
whole story. They’ve been sent to me, and 
I’ve taken them in, and now, we must make 
the best of it.” 


A BOAT COMES IN. 


21 


There was a moment’s silence, and then, 
with all her motherly affection aroused, Mrs. 
Power said, in a troubled voice, “ I don’t feel 
much afraid for myself, but what are we going 
to do with Bethia?” 

^"Take care of her, of course,” David said, 
almost fiercely. “ I don’t mean to let any 
danger come near her nor j^ou if I can help it. 
It is a good thing that Job doesn’t make any 
use of his house ; I told Mr. Gordon that he 
could put his folks in there ; and now you and 
Beth have Just got to stay in your own quar- 
ters as close ” — David paused for breath and a 
comparison — as if all the rest of Loneman’s 
Island was fiooded with a tidal wave,” he 
added, in a second. 

But, father,” Bethia began, in a frightened 
voice. 

It’s too late for any buts,” David said, 
with decision. The thing has happened. 
Next time you feel like wishing for something 
to happen, Beth, I advise you to stop and con- 
sider how many unpleasant things there are 
that you wouldn’t like to have happen. You 
are to be vaccinated at once, and that’s all that 
we can do. Fretting won’t do any of us any 
good; it never does do anything for people 
except to wrinkle their faces. I suppose, 
though,” David said more slowly, as a new 


22 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


thought suddenly occurred to him, I might 
send you both away from the island.’’ 

“You need not speak of sending me, for I 
won’t go,” Mrs. Power said, firmly. 

“ Neither will T,” Bethia said, in a voice 
that, though it was excited, no longer sounded 
frightened. “ I shall not leave mother and 
you now. I will wait for something pleasant 
to happen before I go away from Loneman’s 
Island.” 

David looked relieved. “ I should miss you 
dreadfully if you did go,” he acknowledged; 
“ and then, if you went away and folks knew 
that you’d run from smallpox, they’d all want 
to run from you. I don’t kuow where you 
could go and be made welcome ; and it’s my 
opinion that there isn’t anything much more 
unpleasant than being an unwelcome visitor. 
Well, Til take good care of you, and somehow 
I feel more certain every moment that there 
won’t any harm come to you. But now, 
mother, and Beth, you must mind what I tell 
you. Don’t you ever go near Job’s house; 
and never stand in the wind when it blows 
from that quarter ; keep always to the lee- 
ward.” 

“Does Job know what’s happened?” Mrs. 
Power inquired. 

“No, of course he doesn’t. I haven’t seen 


A BOAT COMES IN, 


23 


him since sunrise, and there are no gossips on 
this island to carry news,’- David answered, 
as he took the key to his assistant’s cottage 
from its nail, and hurried away. 

For a few moments neither Bethia nor her 
mother spoke. Then as, with hands that 
trembled a little more than usual, Mrs. Power 
took up her rolling-pin, she said, “ I do wonder 
what Job will say to all this.” 

There he is now,” Bethia exclaimed, as a 
man with a crab net over his shoulder came 
limping up the path to the house ; and stand- 
ing on the doorstep the girl cried, in an excited 
voice, “ O Job, what do you think has come 
to Loneman’s Island ? ” 

Job put down his net; and taking off his 
hat he drew a red bandanna handkerchief from 
his pocket and slowly wiped his face. It’s a 
hot day,” he said, wearily. “ What’s that you 
want me to guess, Bethia? what’s come to 
Loneman’s Island? Well, I don’t believe I 
can tell, but I know it ain’t a frost.” 

“ It’s the smallpox,” Bethia said, nervously. 

They are carrying him into your house now.” 
“Smallpox — 'him,” Job said, in a perplexed 
tone, “ ’pears to me, Bethia, you’ve got things 
a little mixed. Do you mean — why you can’t 
mean — that there is a man sick with smallpox 
in my house ? ” 


24 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


“Yes, that is just what I do mean,” Bethia 
returned. “ He’s moving in now — that is, I 
don’t know as it’s a man, but, if it isn’t, it’s a 
boy — and O Job, what are Ave going to do? ” 

“Why, let him stay there, I suppose,” Job 
said, calmly. “ I declare I’m so tired that I 
must rest a few minutes,” he added, as he sat 
down on the doorstep. 

“ I don’t see how you can rest Avhen there is 
so much trouble in your house,” Bethia said, 
reprovingly. 

Job turned his mild, blue eyes on the girl and 
smiled cheerfully. “Well, you see, Bethia,” 
he said, slowly, “ that air house of mine has 
been a good deal of a Aveight on my mind all these 
years it’s been a standin’ empty. You see, 
though I knoAved it Avas meant to be lived in, 
I’ve been so comfortable with your folks that I 
ain’t never made no use of it ; and there’s been 
a good many times when I’ve felt afraid that 
I wasn’t doin’ jes’ right. You knoAV property 
is one of the Lord’s talents, and Avhen he trusts 
us Avith it, of course he expects us, as the Bible 
says, to trade with it — that means — as I under- 
stan’ — that we’re to do good Avith it. Why, 
Bethia, I declare I Avas thinkin’ only this morn- 
in’, Avhile I was crabbin’, that I didn’t know 
but I had ought to get married an’ giA"’ some- 
body a chance to live there ; an’ you see I kinder 


A BOAT COMES IN, 


25 


shrank from that — gittin’ married is such a 
drefful onsartain business — an’ now I don’t 
mind tollin’ you, Bethia, that it is a real relief 
to find that that house is cornin’ into use with- 
out my doin’ nothin’ venturesome. Well, I 
always have believed that the need an’ the sup- 
ply was pretty sure to come together without 
our worryin’, an’ now I’m more set in that be- 
lief than ever ; an’ I do assure you, Bethia, it’s 
a real comfortin’ doctrine.” 

Bethia had listened to Job’s dreamy ha- 
rangue in vexed impatience. “ I am glad if you 
can find comfort in what has happened here this 
morning,” she said, severely, but I guess it is 
safe to say that you are the only comfortable 
person on Loneman’s Island just now.” 

Job looked at the girl as if he did not under- 
stand her. “ Why, what is there to fret about, 
Bethia ? ” he said, coolly, “ me an’ the Cap’n’s 
had smallpox.” 

“ But mother hasn’t, and neither have I,” 
Bethia said, in an indignant voice. 

Job sprang to his feet as if he had been sud- 
denly galvanized. “ I do declare I’d jes’ forgot 
that,” he exclaimed. “ Well, there are two 
ways of lookin’ at everything, even to the use of 
a house. But don’t you worry, Beth,” — and he 
made a brave effort to speak cheerfully — “ there 
shan’t no harm come to you an’ the mother if 


26 OiV LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 

I can help it. Here you jest take care of these 
crabs, will you,” — and as Job spoke he captured 
one that had escaped from the net — the tor- 
mentin’ things are a good deal like comfort — 
sartin to slip from you when 3^ou think you’ve 
got ’em sure. Here, take ’em, won’t you ? ” 

Bethia took the crab net, and with an air of 
grim determination Job put on his hat. Now 
I must go and look after my property,” he 
said. “ I must say that I never did calc’late 
on it’s bein’ put to a use that could make trou- 
ble for you an’ your mother, Bethia.” 

“ It is very easy to make mistakes in our cal- 
culations,” Bethia said, with the severity of 
a young judge. 

“Well, yes, I begin to believe it is,” Job 
answered ; and with a face that had quite lost 
its usual happy-go-lucky expression he limped 
off towards his “ property.” 


CHAPTEE 11. 


IN job’s house. 

“ A man may hae an honest heart, 

Tho’ poortith hourly stare him ; 

A man may tak a neebor’s part, 

Yet hae nae cash to spare him.” 

Robert Bums, 

TTALLOOj Job, I was just coming for you.” 

Job had just reached his house. David 
Power stood in the open door. ‘‘ I was just 
coming for you,” he repeated. “Have you 
heard the news ? ” 

Job nodded. “ Yes, Bethia told me,” he 
said. 

“Well, I suppose you don’t object to what 
I’ve done,” David said, in a confident voice. 

Job stooped down, picked up two or three 
pebbles, and tossed them towards the ocean. 
“ I object, and then again I don’t object,” he 
said, in a troubled tone. “ You see, Cap’n,” — 
for years Job’s only name for David Power 
had been Cap’n — “when it is jest my- property 
that’s to be considered, why then, of course, I 
ain’t a word to say against what you’ve done. 


28 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


In fact it does sort of ease my conscience to 
see this ’ere house, that’s been standin’ empty 
so long, do somebody good. But then there’s 
more than my property to be considered, Cap’n. 
There’s Bethia and her mother ; and consid- 
erin’ them I must own that I wish that boat- 
load of trouble had cast anchor in some other 
harbor.” 

‘‘ Yes, that is just what I wish,” David an- 
swered, gravely. ^‘But you see. Job, there 
wasn’t any choice given us. I must own that 
I felt pretty bad about mother and Bethia, at 
first, but I believe we can take care of them ; 
and then we are human beings, and when this 
trouble landed here, at our door, there wasn’t 
any way out of it — that I could see — except to 
do as we would be done by, and act like men.” 

‘^That’s so, Cap’n,” Job said, in a mollified 
voice. 

‘‘ And there wasn’t but one way in which 
we could act like men, and that was to take 
these poor folks in,” David continued. 

“That’s so,” Job said again. 

“And so, you see. Job, as your house was 
empty I thought it right to let them have it.” 

“ There ain’t no question but you’ve done 
jest right,” Job said, soberly, “ but still — ” 
he hesitated a moment, and then in a quick, 
nervous voice he went on: “I don’t want to 


IN JGB^S HOUSE, 


29 


fight against what’s right, Cap’n, but I can’t 
help wishin’ that after waitin’ all these years 
I could have put my house to some use that 
would have made things a little cheerfuUer for 
Bethia and her mother. Smallpox isn’t jest 
the most entertainin’ visitor that could have 
come to us, you know, but I s’pose it’s too late 
to change anything now,” and Job paused, and 
looked doubtfully at David. 

“Yes, it’s too late to change anything 
now. Job, for they are already here in the 
house.” 

Job’s face brightened. “ That settles it,” he 
said, in a relieved tone. “I can’t possibly 
turn ’em out, if they are already in possession, 
and I must own it’s a great comfort not to feel 
the responsibility of making any more objec- 
tions. Well, Cap’n, now that it’s decided that 
they are goin’ to stay, I s’pose you an’ me must 
jest act as if there Avas a ship ashore and lielp 
’em all we can. What were you cornin’ after 
me for, hey ? ” 

“ Why, to talk over this business with you. 
Job. You know now they are here we must 
do all we can to make them comfortable.” 

“ Yes, of course,” Job said, heartily. “Well, 
what are we goin’ to do first ? ” 

“ I don’t exactly know myself,” David ac- 
knoAvledged. “ If only we could bring mother 


80 


ON LONEMAN'8 ISLAND. 


over and advise with her it would be a great 
help ; for it’s strange, Job, but it’s true, that 
while we men are looking at a difficulty, a 
woman will work her way out of it.” 

And there ain’t no woman come with this 
sick man? ” Job asked. 

“Why, yes, of course, there has,” David 
answered. “ You know it isn’t a man, it’s a 
boy that’s sick, and his mother is with him.” 

“ That’s good,” Job said, cheerfully. “ If the 
mother is here I guess weJl have things work- 
in’ right before long. S’pose you an’ me go in 
and see her, and ask what we can do to help 
her, Cap’n?” 

David laid his hand approvingly on Job’s 
shoulder. “ That’s the very thing,” he said 
“ Your judgment is almost as good as mother’s. 
Job. Come on ” — and he stepped into the 
house — “ they are in this room.” And stopping 
before the first door in the little hall, David 
gave a loud knock. 

There was a moment’s delay, and then Mr. 
Gordon opened the door. 

“ I have brought your landlord to see you, 
Mr. Gordon,” David said, as he stepped behind 
Job. 

“ Good-mornin’,” Job said, pleasantly. “ Can 
we see the lady ? ” 

“My wife? I am afraid she isn’t equal 


IN JOB^S HOUSE, 


31 


to seeing any one,” Mr. Gordon answered, 
gloomily. 

“ Oh yes, I am,” said a gentle voice, and the 
next instant Mrs. Gordon stood beside her hus- 
band. She was very pale, and her eyes looked 
heavy and tear-swollen, but she smiled a little 
as she saw Job’s honest face. 

Is it safe for you to be here ? ” she asked. 

Job made a respectful bow. 

^^Yes, ma’am,” he answered, heartily. “I 
reckon it’s always safe for us to be where we 
ought to be, an’ any way there ain’t no danger 
for me an’ the Cap’n. We’re as safe as bein’ 
stamped with the genuine marks can make us. 
We ain’t come now to trouble you, ma’am, but 
we do jest Avant to know Avhat we can do to 
help you ? ” 

“ Oh I don’t know,” Mrs. Gordon said, help- 
lessly. The honest eyes with which Job 
watched her were full of pity. 

“ Can’t you come out, an’ set down a few 
moments, ma’am, — on the stairs, sense we ain’t 
got no chair ? ” he asked. “ Me an’ the Cap’n 
here do want to know Avhat things you need 
to make you comfortable, ma’am,” he con- 
tinued, as Mrs. Gordon made no movement 
towards complying with his request. ‘‘You 
see, it’s pretfy safe to calc’late that you’ll have 
to stay here some time, an’ you can’t live in 


32 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


bare rooms. You must eat, an’ sleep, you 
know, ma’am, and so it’s very necessary to get 
some things for this empty house ; an’ me an’ 
the Cap’n here will be much obleeged if you’ll 
tell us what to get.” 

^‘Yes, go out and consult with these men, 
my dear,” Mr. Gordon said, in a low tone. 
Great tears stood in Mrs. Gordon’s eyes as she 
obeyed her husband. “ I thank you. You do 
not know how much I thank you,” she said, 
in a choked voice, to the two men who watched 
her with so much respect and sympathy. We 
have been in so much trouble, everybody has 
been so afraid of us, and now ” — she stopped 
and brushed away her tears. “ Oh, I cannot 
tell you how deeply I appreciate your kind- 
ness,” she added, huskily. 

“You needn’t try to tell us, ma’am,” Job 
said, in a voice expressive at once of great re- 
spect and kindness. “ Me an’ the Oap’n ain’t 
no cause to feel afraid — that is for ourselves. 
We do feel anxious to keep the mother an’ 
Bethia safe, but we reckon we’ll do that jest 
as well — an’ maybe a little better — if we help 
you as if we let you alone. I don’t b’lieve that 
hard’ning the heart ever helped to keep any- 
body well yet. Now, ma’am, if you’ll jest set 
down here” — and Job pointed to the stairs — • 
“ an’ tell us what you want, me an’ the Oap’n 


IN JOB^S UOUSE, 


33 


will engage that the things shall be here jest 
as soon as our boat can cross the bay to Green- 
fields an’ come back.” 

Mrs. Gordon did not sit down, she leaned 
against the stair railing and looked helplessly 
at the men. 

“ If I only knew my own wants then I would 
be able to tell them to you,” she said, weakly : 
“but, truly, I do not know what I need. I am 
so bewildered I feel like a lost child,” she 
acknowledged, more to herself than to her 
listeners. 

“ Sit down an’ think a few moments, ma’am,” 
Job insisted, respectfully, “you’ll see things 
clearer then, maybe, or” — as a new thought 
struck him — “ perhaps you’d better go through 
the house. You haven’t seen all the rooms 
have you ? ” Mrs. Gordon shook her head. 
Speech seemed at that moment impossible. 

“Then, of course, you can’t tell what you 
want,” Job said, cheerfully. “ JSTow, ma’am, if 
you’ll come with me an’ the Cap’n we’ll go 
through the house. It ain’t very large, but it 
is very convenient. I’ve often thought how 
comfortable me an’ — somebody might live here. 
See” — and Job opened a door, and followed 
by David and Mrs. Gordon — who was begin- 
ning to look interested — stepped into a good- 
sized room. “This is the kitchen, ma’am. 

3 


34 


ON LONGMAN'S ISLAND. 


You see” — and he motioned around the room 
with an air of pride — “there are plenty of 
closets, an’ here is a pump with as clear, sweet 
water as you’d find if you sailed all around the 
world. As he spoke Job raised the pump 
handle and with one stroke sent a stream of 
pure water running into an iron sink. “Yes, 
it would have been very convenient for — some- 
body,” he said, in a satisfied voice. “ But ” — 
and now his tone changed a little — “ there 
ain’t no stove, you see, ma’am. I guess that 
will be one of the first things you’ll want, 
won’t it ? ” 

“ A stove,” Mrs. Gordon repeated, while she 
looked undecided whether to laugh or cry. 
“ Yes, I suppose a stove is necessary,” she 
said, “ but who will use it ? I have no servant, 
and I don’t know how to cook.” 

Job’s honest face showed his concern. “ That’s 
one of the things that I’ve never learned to do, 
an’ yet I’ve always felt that I ought to,” he 
acknowledged, regretfully. “ It is strange 
now, ain’t it ? but I do believe that we never 
leave anything unlearned that the good Lord 
gives us a chance to learn without some day 
bein’ sorry.” 

“ I confess that I am very sorry now that I 
do not know how to cook,” Mrs. Gordon said, 
sadly. “ Oh dear, I wish I knew what to 


IN JOB^S HOUSE. 


35 


do,” she added, with a long-drawn, tearful 
sigh. 

“ Perhaps I can help you now, Mrs. Gordon,” 
David said, in a consoling voice. “ I thought 
as this was Job’s house I’d just leave him to 
show it off and do the planning with you. But 
since you don’t knowhow to manage about the 
cooking I think I’d better just join in and plan 
with you. You see, Mrs. Gordon, I am better 
off than Job, for I have got a wife and a young 
daughter. They can’t come here to see you, 
because just so far as I can I want to keep them . 
out of danger, but they can cook for you. 
Bethia knows how to make real good loaf -cake 
— ^good enough to be Avedding-cake I tell her 
sometimes — and as for bread and pies, when 
you have once eaten my wife’s it’s my belief 
that you won’t ask for any better.” 

Mrs. Gordon smiled. ^^If Mrs. Power Avill 
make my bread, I will promise to be satisfied 
with it, and thankful for it,” she said. 

“She will make you anything you want,” 
David promised. “ She will cook your meat and 
vegetables, and Ave have a good coav so you 
can have all the milk you want. I guess ” — 
and David’s face shone with pride — “ you Avon’t 
starve, ma’am, though you are stranded on 
Loneman’s Island.” 

Mrs. Gordon’s smile, though faint, was very 


36 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


sweet. Her own nature was so true and un- 
spoiled, that she could fully appreciate the 
honesty and inborn nobleness of the two plain 
men before her. 

“ J^o, I am sure we need not have any fear of 
starving,” she said, gratefully. But how will 
we get our meals after they are cooked ? ” she 
asked, anxiously, the next instant. 

“We’ll bring them to you. Job and I,” Da- 
vid promised. “ Bethia and her mother will 
pack them in a basket, and you’ll get them 
hot ; there’ll be no trouble about that.” 

“ Thank you,” Mrs. Gordon said, with a sigh 
of relief, “ that important matter is arranged 
then. I have an alcohol lamp in my trunk that 
I can heat water over, so I do not think I will 
need any furniture for this kitchen, Mr. — ” she 
paused and looked doubtfully at Job ; he under- 
stood her. 

“ I ain’t never been used to bein’ called Mr.,” 
he said, awkwardly. “ My name is Fuller — 
Job Fuller. But if you’d jest as soon, I wish 
you’d do like everybody else an’ call me Job. 
It ain’t always easy to answer to a new name, 
you know, ma’am,” he added, with a bashful 
laugh. 

“Very well,” Mrs. Gordon said, pleasantly. 
“ What other rooms are there. Job ? ” she asked 
the next moment. 


IN JOB^S HOUSE, 


37 


“Your boy is in the parlor,” Job answered. 
“You don’t know how often I’ve stood in that 
room an’ thought how pretty it would be if I 
only had — somebody to furnish it for ; but noAV ” 
— and unconsciously Job sighed — “ you won’t 
want much for it, I calc’late.” 

“ No,” Mrs. Gordon said, after a moment’s 
consideration, “ a cot with a mattress, a small 
table, and two plain chairs will be furniture 
enough for that room.” 

David took a blank book and a lead pencil 
out of his pocket. “ I’ll make a note of what 
you want, ma’am,” he said, thoughtfully. 
“ Show her the other rooms. Job.” 

“Here’s the only other room downstairs,” 
Job said, as he opened a door. “I s’pose that 
this was meant for the dinin’ room,” he ex- 
plained. “ But you see it ain’t never had no- 
body to set a table in it.” 

Mrs. Gordon stepped into the room. It Avas 
small, but two large windows gave plenty of 
light and air. With one quick glance about it 
the lady took in all its possibilities. “ This 
will make a pleasant room to sit in as well as 
dine in,” she said. “ Mr. PoAver, please put 
down on your list a small round table, three 
cane chairs, one willow rocker, a AvilloAV lounge, 
a little stand for books and papers, and a large 
lamp. We may be here several weeks, and I 


38 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

want to make this a comfortable room for Mr. 
Gordon to sit in,” she added, with a little sigh. 
“ And now ” — and she passed hurriedly into 
the hall — “ what is there upstairs. Job ? ” 

If you ain’t feelin’ too tired, won’t you go 
up an’ see ? ” Job asked. 

Mrs. Gordon hesitated a second, and then 
went slowly up the stairs. It is a rest to 
make plans for — living,” she said, while a shad- 
ow-like pain darkened her eyes. 

“ It always has seemed to me that this house 
was jest made to rest in,” Job said, cheerfully. 
“ There are three rooms up here, you see, 
ma’am,” he said, as they stood in the little up- 
per hall, “ and this one, over the parlor ” — and 
he led the way into it — ‘^I think wonderful 
pleasant. These windows now ” — and he 
opened one of them — “ sometimes when I come 
up here an’ look out of ’em, I says to myself, 
what does it matter if I ain’t got pictures on 
my walls, when all outdoors is one great picture 
an’ my windows look, out on it.” 

Once more Mrs. Gordon’s sad face grew 
bright with appreciation. “ Let me look,” she 
said, going to the window, “ I love to look at 
pictures.” 

“Do you, ma’am?” Job asked, in a pleased 
voice. “ Well, I don’t bTieve you’ve often seen 
a prettier picture than that is,” and he leaned 


IN JOB\^ HOUSE. 


39 


out of the window and pointed towards the 
ocean. The next instant he drew back. 
forgot 3^ou was standin’, ma’am,” he said. 
^^Here is a box,” and he brought a large 
wooden box that stood in one corner of the 
room and placed it in the Avindow — “ wouldn’t 
you like to set down a few moments an’ look 
out an’ rest.” 

With a weary sigh Mrs. Gordon accepted 
Job’s kind attention. She was very tired, and 
it Avas a comfort to rest even on that hard box. 
Leaning her elbows on the Avindow sill, she 
rested her aching head on her hands and looked 
out at Job’s picture. Before her in all its glory 
lay the great Atlantic. There were no high 
waA^es that summer morning, there was only a 
restless, heaving motion that made the water 
as it flashed in the sunshine as changeable in 
color as an opal. Upon the shore, with a Ioav 
soft murmur, broke tiny ripples, that, as if at 
play, ran up on the sands, Avashed over the 
stones and shells, and then rolled back into the 
sea. Far off against the horizon tAvo or three 
sails shone Avhite in the sunshine, and occasion- 
ally near the shore a sea bird just dipped his 
wings in the water, and then rising soared far 
away over the breakers. There Avere no signs 
of human life on the beach. The wind that 
blew gently in at the AvindoAv and fanned her 


40 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 

hot brow was damp and salt with the tossing 
spray. The island seemed like a green nest 
cradled on peaceful waters, and as she gazed the 
pain at her heart Avas soothed, and the terrible 
fears that had haunted her all that morning 
dropped away. But only for a brief minute ; 
then sorrowful recollections of the danger that 
threatened her returned, and she started up. 

“ It is very beautiful,’’ she said, sadly. I 
do not AA^onder that you love this picture. Job, 
but I must not stay here any longer,” and Avith 
quick steps she hastened to the door. 

“ But you haA^en’t told us, ma’am, Avhat you 
will Avant for this room,” David said. “ You 
will have to use it, Avon’t you ? ” 

Mrs. Gordon stopped on the threshold. 

Will I ? I don’t knoAV. I Avish I could feel 
sure that I Avould,” she said, in a hopeless voice. 

Both David and Job Avere quick to under- 
stand her. “ Of course, you Avill Avant it, 
ma’am,” David said, in a tone as encouraging 
as his words. “ You knoAv,” he Avent on cheer- 
fully, “ both Job and I have been through Avhat 
your boy is going through noAA^, and so Ave can 
tell pretty well hoAV it will be with him. It 
will take time — it may be a good many weeks 
before you can get away from this shut-in is- 
land — but it will all come out right Avith the 
boy. And he couldn’t be in a better place to 


IN JOB^S HOUSE, 


41 


get back his strength when once he begins to 
mend ; for every breath of this pure sea air is 
like a tonic. So you see, ma’am, it’s life — and 
nothing else — that you must plan for ; and if 
you are going to live here, on Loneman’s Is- 
'land, a good many weeks, it seems to me it 
would be a sensible thing to plan to live com- 
fortably ; and if you do that, ma’am, it will be 
necessary to make this room comfortable. You 
can’t sleep on that box, you know.” 

David’s hopeful words produced the effect 
that hopeful words truthfully spoken are wont 
to produce. Mrs. Gordon listened eagerly, and 
smiled when he paused. 

“ You are a good comforter, Mr. Power,” 
she said, gratefully, and I am sure you are a 
good adviser. I think you are right ; it will 
be wise to make this room habitable. Let me 
see, what do I need ? ” Once more she turned 
and surveyed the bare chamber. ‘‘A bed, a 
chair, a table,” she said quickly. “ There, they 
will do for the present ; other articles can be 
added, if we find that we need them ; and now 
1 must go back to my poor boy.” 

“ I s’pose, ma’am,” David said, thoughtfully, 
“ that you won’t have any objections to my 
showing your list to my wife, and if she thinks 
of some things that you’ve forgotten I’d better 
get them, hadn’t I ? ” 


42 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


“ Yes, Mrs. Gordon said, hastily. There 
are other things, I’ve no doubt, but I cannot 
think of them now. If Mrs. Power can sug- 
gest anything I shall be grateful. You know,” 
she said, with a little hesitation, as if she feared 
to wound her hearers, all that you buy for us 
Mr. Gordon will give you money to pay for.” 

That’s all right, ma’am,” David answered, 
in his usual honest, straightforward business 
manner. But still it wouldn’t make any dif- 
ference to me an’ Job if Mr. Gordon couldn’t 
pay ; we’d want to make you comfortable, just 
the same.’^ 

“I believe you would,” Mrs. Gordon said, 
while her eyes shone with grateful feeling. “ I 
hope some day” — and her voice trembled a 
little — “ my boy will be able to thank you for 
your goodness.” 

You ain’t got a nurse for your boy, have 
you, ma’am?” Job asked now, as they went 
down the stairs. 

^^No,” Mrs. Gordon answered. “We con- 
sulted with the doctor about a nurse while we 
Vf ere crossing over to the island. A good nurse 
would be a great blessing ; but one who had 
not had the disease and was afraid of it would 
only add to our troubles ; and so Mr. Gordon 
and I have decided to take care of our boy our- 
selves. The doctor will come over every day ; 


IN JOB'S HOUSE. 


43 


if at any time it becomes necessary for us to 
have more help he will try to get it for us.” 

“ I don’t b’lieve you’ll want more help than 
this island will be able. to give you,” Job said, 
with cheerful assurance. Here’s me an’ the 
Cap’n ; we’re both at your service.” 

Certainly we are,” David added, with em- 
phasis. 

“ But the little girl and her mother ; ” Mrs. 
Gordon said, anxiously, “ remember there is 
danger of your carrying the disease to them.” 

We shall never go near them, after we’ve 
been here, without first taking a plunge in the 
ocean and changing our clothes,” David said, 
with great positiveness. We will try to take 
good care of our own ; but the Lord has sent 
j^ou here, ma’am, and so Job and I can’t help 
feeling that it’s our duty to lighten your bur- 
dens all we can ; and you and Mr. Gordon may 
count on our always being ready and willing to 
lend a hand when you want us.” 

Mrs. Gordon stopped at the door of her son’s 
room. She had experienced many strange and 
sad sensations that morning, and now this un- 
selfish nobleness, so anxious to befriend and 
serve her, roused all that was good and noble 
in her own soul. Her voice choked as she 
tried to thank them. Once more with the 
intuitions of true men they understood her. 


44 


ON LONEMAN ISLAND. 


“ It ain’t necessary to thank us, ma’am, 
we’re only doin’ as we’d be done by,” Job 
said, gently ; and the next instant, with re- 
spectful bows, the two men left the house. 


CHAPTER IIL 


WE TWO ALONE. 

“ The very shadows on our souls that lie, 

Good witness to the light supernal bear.*’ 

George Macdonald, 

lyrR. GORDON held up his hand warningly 
as his wife opened the door. Donald 
is asleep,” he whispered. 

“ Oh, I am so glad,” Mrs. Gordon whispered 
in reply ; and with a noiseless step she crossed 
the bare floor and sat down on a trunk beside 
her husband. He looked at her with anxious 
eyes. 

“ You are tired, and we haven’t even a chair 
for you to rest in. Truly, Katharine, we 
have drifted into poor quarters ; this island 
is as desolate as its name,” he said, with a 
sigh. 

“ It is a haven of rest to me after all we en- 
dured in the hotel,” Mrs. Gordon answered, 
bravely. I do not mind the discomfort, I am 
so thankful to have Donald safely sheltered; 
and, Roderick, it may be true that we have 

45 


46 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


drifted into poor quarters, but it is equally 
true that we have been received with the most 
unselfish hospitality. If we had brought some 
great pleasure to them instead of this serious 
trouble, the lighthousekeeper and his assistant 
could not be kinder.” 

To think of your having to be grateful for 
kindness from such people,” Mr. Gordon said, 
haughtily. “Well, I have often heard, and 
now I know from personal experience, that 
misery makes men thankful for strange com- 
panions.” 

Mrs. Gordon forced a smile. “ Don’t be 
proud, Doderick,” she said, gently. “ In times 
of trouble ^ kind hearts are more than coronets,’ 
and I do feel that we have cause to be very 
thankful that we have found these good men 
so willing to help us.” 

Mr. Gordon’s face looked grave and discon- 
tented. “ I hope, for your sake, that we won’t 
have any cause to be less thankful,” he said, 
bitterly. “Well” — with a long-drawn breath 
— “ it is useless to think of what may be. 
Everything will be wretched enough, I have 
no doubt, but we won’t anticipate. Come,” — 
and he made an effort to speak cheerfully — 
“ tell me what you have been doing with our 
new friends.” 

“ I have been through all the rooms in this 


WE TWO ALONE, 


47 


house,” Mrs. Gordon answered ; and ” — Avith 
a tremulous little smile — “I have made ar- 
rangements for housekeeping.” 

“ Housekeeping ! ” Mr. Gordon exclaimed, 
in a hopeless voice. “Well” — after a mo- 
ment’s thought — “ I suppose no mortal can tell 
how long we may have to remain here, and, of 
course, it is wise for us to make ourselves com- 
fortable, if we can. But I must confess that 
comfort on this dreary island, in our circum- 
stances, seems to me as impossible as happiness 
in purgatory.” 

Mrs. Gordon sighed; she was making a 
brave effort to be strong and hopeful, and her 
husband’s despondency weakened and pained 
her. 

“ The things impossible to pride are possible 
to love,” she said, tremulously. “ I believe we 
can be comfortable here, Eoderick, if only — ” 
she paused, and the shadow that darkened her 
face as she glanced at her sleeping boy revealed 
her fears. Her silence lasted but a moment, 
and then she said quietly: “I am going to 
make some of the rooms habitable, Eoderick. 
The men are going to Greenfields this after- 
noon to buy furniture for us, and you must see 
them before they go, for they will want some 
money.” 

“ I will remember,” Mr. Gordon promised ; 


48 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 


and then once more he studied his wife’s face 
with anxious eyes. “ You cannot live on furni- 
ture, Katharine,” he said. ‘‘What do you 
expect to eat on this desert island, sand 
pies ? ” 

“ I have arranged for food as well as furni- 
ture,” Mrs. Gordon explained. “ The Captain’s 
wife is to cook for us.” 

“ You are a thoughtful little woman,” Mr. 
Gordon answered, in a relieved voice. “You 
always find the stepping-stones over the hard 
places.” 

Mrs. Gordon’s eyes grew suddenly dim. 
“ O Roderick,” she whispered, “ if we only 
do get over this hard place without loss how 
grateful I shall be.” 

Mr. Gordon arose and knelt down beside 
his child, who was lying on a mattress on the 
floor. He watched him for a few moments, 
and then turned to his wife. 

“ He is still asleep, he seems to be doing 
well,” he said, encouragingly. “ You must not 
fret, dear ; your strength will soon fail if you 
worry as well as watch.” 

“I do not mean to worry,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, bravely. “ Roderick,” she continued, after 
a minute’s silence, “ there is something I must 
tell you. All this morning” — and now her 
voice was so low that her husband had to bend 


WE TWO ALONE. 


49 


his head to hear it — “ I have been wishing 
that you and I knew how to pray for 
Donald.” 

Mr. Gordon straightened himself, but he did 
not speak. 

“ You are not vexed, Eoderick ? ” 

“ With you ? No, dear ; I am willing you 
should pray, if praying can give you any satis- 
faction.” 

“ But you do not think it will do any good ? ” 
There was a note in Mrs. Gordon’s voice that 
told plainly how much she longed for an 
answer that would banish her doubts and give 
encouragement to her hopes. 

Mr. Gordon did not look at her ; he folded 
his arms and said, firmly: have never 

known it to do any good.” 

Mrs. Gordon gave a weary sigh. “ It seems 
as if the people who believe in prayer have 
something to lean on that we have not,” she 
said, in a despondent voice. 

“We have each other; you must lean on 
me,” Mr. Gordon said, tenderly. 

She shook her head, and her voice was touch- 
ing in its sadness. “ Your strength may fail, 
and so may mine,” she said. “ O Eoderick, we 
cannot deny it — we do need help now that we 
cannot give each other.” 

Mr. Gordon frowned. “ I never have failed 
4 


50 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


you, Katharine, and I never will,” he said, re- 
proachfully. 

I know you never will fail me willingly,” 

Mrs. Gordon answered, but ” 

“ This won’t do,” Mr. Gordon said, emphatic- 
ally. Come, Katharine, for Donald’s sake, 
as well as mine, put your gloomy fancies and 
forebodings away, and try to be brave and 
hopeful. You know if you lose heart now I 
shall feel like a crippled man.” 

That is just what I said,” Mrs. Gordon ven- 
tured to insist. We are not strong enough in 
this time of trial to hold each other up, Koder- 
ick.” 

Then we will have to fall,” Mr. Gordon re- 
plied, “ for we two are alone now. If Ave fail 
each other we Avill be helpless indeed.” 

Mrs. Gordon did not answer. She sat on 
the trunk Avith her head resting on her hand, 
and her drooping attitude shoAved that she AA^as 
very tired. Mr. Gordon watched her. “ I do 
Avish I had a chair for you, Katharine,” he ex- 
claimed, in a voice that Avas almost angry. “ If 
Ave were poor Ave could not be more destitute. 
I have a pocketbook full of money, and yet I 
cannot command even a chair for your comfort. 
With Donald on the floor, and you on this trunk, 
I think we make an ideal picture of a miserable 
family.” 


WE TWO ALONE, 


51 


“ I do wish Donald had a cot,” Mrs. Gordon 
said ; “ but we must be patient, dear. Our 
furniture will be here before night. Hark ” — 
as her keen ear detected a slight noise in the 
hall — there are the men now. Perhaps they 
want to see you, Koderick.” 

“ I didn’t hear anything,” Mr. Gordon pro- 
tested, but at the same time he went to the 
door. As he opened it Job pushed a large, 
chintz-cushioned, old-fashioned rocking-chair 
into the room. 

“ The mother and Bethia sent you this,” he 
said. “ They thought the lady must want some- 
thing to rest in.” 

‘‘ Thank you, thank you,” Mr. Gordon said, 
more warmly, perhaps, than he ever had spoken 
those words before. 

You are welcome. They can spare it. I 
will bring your dinner soon,” Job answered, 
and with an awkward bow he limped away. 

Mr. Gordon closed the door, and then placed 
the chair in one of the open windows. “ I 
never expected to be so thankful for anything 
money can buy as I am for this old chair,” he 
said. “ Come here, and sit down in it, Kath- 
arine.” 

“ It does look very inviting,” Mrs. Gordon 
said ; but as she placed her hand on the chair, 
she hesitated. “ I hope they don’t value it very 




ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 


highly/’ she said. ‘‘ You know they never can 
have it again. It will have to be burned when 
we are through with it.” 

Sit down,” Mr. Gordon said, peremptorily. 
‘‘ I will pay for this chair, Katharine. I shall 
pay these poor people liberally for all they do 
for us.” 

Mrs. Gordon leaned back in the chair, and 
drew in a long breath of the pure sea air that 
came in at the open window. This is com- 
fort,” she said, in a tired but grateful voice. 

A little smile softened Mr. Gordon’s grave 
face. I wonder,” he said, pleasantly, “ when 
you get away from this island, how you will 
define discomfort, Katharine. As something 
men sometimes are afraid of, but never really 
experience ? ” 

‘‘ Perhaps. At any rate I never shall com- 
plain of discomfort here if things grow no 
worse,” Mrs. Gordon said, while her eyes rested 
lovingly on Donald. 

Mr. Gordon did not answer her, and in a 
moment in a lighter tone she said : “ So you 

think you can really pay for this chair, do you, 
Roderick? Well, my dear, I know you have a 
long purse, but money cannot always pay for 
kindness. I feel already that we have incurred 
a debt on this island that dollars never can 
liquidate.” 


WE TWO ALONE, 


53 


I have no such feeling : dollars, or Avhat 
dollars can purchase, will cancel all our debts 
here,” Mr. Gordon replied, in the tone of a man 
to whom money was all-powerful. 

“I don’t think so, but dollars will help — 
perhaps,” Mrs. Gordon said, thoughtfully ; and 
then her eyes closed, and for a few minutes, in 
the sleep she so much needed, she forgot all her 
care and trouble. 

Meanwhile, in David Power’s sunny kitchen, 
kind hearts were planning, and willing hands 
working for the comfort of the strangers who 
so much needed their sympathy and help. A 
large basket stood on the floor; a coffee pot 
was steaming on the stove ; and at a table, as 
white as the beach sand with which it was daily 
scrubbed, Bethia and her mother were cutting 
bread and slicing ham. They were interested 
in their work, and so eager to do it well that 
they quite forgot the danger that made it 
necessary. ' 

“ I expect they are pretty hungry, Beth,” 
Mrs. Power said, in a satisfied voice. ‘‘ I’m 
sure they ought to be, for they couldn’t have 
had much appetite for their breakfast this morn- 
ing, and I am real glad that this was my bak- 
ing day ; for now everything is just as sweet 
and fresh as it can be.” 

“ I am sorry we haven’t a chicken for them,” 


54 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

Betliia said, as she took her butter stamp out 
of a bowl of cold water and pressed it down on 
a cake of golden butter. There,” she said, 
contentedly, as she raised the stamp, “ that rose 
looks perfect, doesn’t it, mother?” 

“ The butter is perfect, any way,” Mrs. Power 
answered. ^‘They didn’t find any like it in 
Greenfields, I feel safe to say. And as for a 
chicken — we’ll have one for them to-morrow, 
but they came so unexpectedly that of course 
we couldn’t make much extra preparation to- 
day.” 

“ I guess they’ll be satisfied, mother.” 

“ Yes, I guess they will be. This crab meat 
is most as good as lobster, and the ham’s as 
sweet as sugar, and as for this cherry pie — ” 
Mrs. Power paused. She lacked words in which 
to eulogize the result of her morning’s baking. 

“ ‘ Cherry pie is very good,’ ” 

Bethia sang, with a sudden recollection of one 
of her Mother Goose melodies. But her sing- 
ing stopped abruptly, and she looked at Mrs. 
Power with an anxious face. 

Mother,” she exclaimed, what are they 
going to eat on? There isn’t a table in Job’s 
house.” 

And they have only the one chair we sent 
’em,” Mrs. Power said, soberly. Well, it 


WE TWO ALONE. 


55 


can’t be helped, Beth. I don’t suppose they 
have ever been obliged to put up with incon- 
veniences before, but folks in trouble can’t 
always have tables set with silver.” 

wish I could go over there,” Bethia 
said, in a tone that seemed coaxing for per- 
mission. “I don’t feel a bit afraid now, 
mother.” 

All Mrs. Power’s motherly fears were awak- 
ened by Bethia’s words. “ Go over there,” she 
repeated, “well, I guess you won’t, Bethia 
Power. To run into danger, when you can’t 
do any good, is just sheer presumption. When 
you are needed in trouble don’t ever be miss- 
ing, but when you are not needed just wait 
until you are. I do declare, it is my firm be- 
lief that half the misery in this world would 
be cured if some folks didn’t run away from 
the trouble that belongs to them, and other 
folks didn’t rush in and meddle with the trou- 
ble they never ought to touch. Don’t you ever 
meddle, and don’t you ever shirk. There, that 
is my advice to you to-day, Beth, and you will 
find it good advice for all the days of your life. 
Now,” — and Mrs. Power unfolded a snowy 
cloth and proceeded to cover the basket — “ I 
believe everything is ready, so you can call 
your father and Job.” 

A few minutes later^ while Mrs. Gordon was 


56 ON LONNMAN^S ISLAND, 

still sleeping in her chair, and Mr. Gordon was 
fanning Donald, who was now awake and very 
restless. Job knocked on their door, and then 
unceremoniously opened it. 

“Your dinner’s ready,” he said, “and I 
thought you’d excuse my steppin’ in, because 
I’ve come to stay with the little fellow while 
you eat.” 

Job’s abrupt entrance had aroused Mrs. 
Gordon. “ Is it perfectly convenient for you 
to stay ? ” she asked. 

Job’s first answer was to cross the room, and 
sit down on the floor beside the sick boy. “ I’ve 
set my heart on stayin’,” he said then. “ I’ve 
made up my mind that me an’ this little man 
is goin’ to be great friends. Let me take that, 
sir ” — and Job reached out his hand for the 
fan. “ You’ll find your dinner in the kitchen 
on the dresser — we couldn’t put it nowhere else, 
as we ain’t no table — an’ if you don’t find it 
very stylish, I ain’t afraid to prophesy that 
you’ll find it good.” 

Job’s cheerful face and voice seemed quite to 
change the atmosphere of the dreary room, 
even the little boy ceased to toss and fret, and 
looked at him with a smile. “ You needn’t be 
afraid to trust me, ma’am,” Job said, as he 
gently raised the weary little fellow, and 
dexterously beat up his one thin pillow, 


WE TWO ALONE. 57 

an’ boys always do get along well 
together.” 

Mrs. Gordon smiled, but still she hesitated, 
and stood looking with yearning pity on her 
suffering child. 

“ Do go, mamma,” the boy said, fretfully, 

I don’t like to have you look at me so. He ” 
— and he turned his eyes trustfully on Job — 
“ is a good deal jollier than you are.” 

“ Come, Katharine,” Mr. Gordon said, as 
he took his wife’s arm and led her out of the 
room. “ I am sure we can trust that honest 
fellow, and Donald has just given us a good 
hint — a cheerful face is like sunshine in a sick 
room. Let us remember that ; and now, my 
dear, where is the kitchen ? ” 

‘‘ Here,” and Mrs. Gordon opened the door. 

It is a poor place for you to dine in, Koderick, 
but imitate Dickens’ ‘ Little Marchioness ’ and 
‘ make believe hard enough,’ and then it will 
seem a most unique place for a picnic.” 

Mr. Gordon laughed. “ My last picnic,” he 
said, “ was at Kenilworth, do you remember 
it, Katharine ? And this” — and he walked up 
to the shelf where Job had spread the lunch 
— “ well, this is certainly in a place unknown 
to history.” 

“ It may not be any the worse for that,” 
Mrs. Gordon replied. “It is as Job said, 


58 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


Roderick, everything looks good ; and we have 
had style with so many poor lunches, that for 
once, with a good one, I think we can dispense 
with it.” 

We will make a virtue of necessity,” Mr. 
Gordon said, as he took a cup and saucer and 
walked to the sink, in which-^for want of a 
better place — Job had placed the coffee pot and 
cream pitcher. 

“ Truly, I must acknowledge that this un- 
known island produces delicious cream,” he 
said, as he prepared a cup of coffee and gave 
it to his wife : 

It promises to be like the mother’s bag, in 
the ‘ Swiss Family Robinson,’ and give us every- 
thing we need,” Mrs. Gordon said, playfully. 

Let us trust, then, that it will fulfill its 
promise,” her husband returned. ‘‘ Katharine,” 
he said soon, as he helped himself the second 
time to one of Mrs. Power’s tempting slices of 
ham, “ here is a poetical riddle for you. If 
Robbie Burns — as we Scotch folks love to call 
him — was dining with us now, which one of his 
poems do you think he would quote ? ” 

“ I am sure I don’t know,” Mrs. Gordon an- 
swered, “ unless ” — with a sudden recollection 
of Job — ‘^he reminded us that, 

“ ‘ The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, 

The man’s the gowd for a’ that.’ ” 


WE TWO ALONE, 


59 


“No, no,” Mr. Gordon said, emphatically. 
“ Eobert Burns had a keener sense of what is 
fitting, Katharine. He would tell us now, 

“ ‘ Some hae meat that canna eat, 

And some could eat that want it, 

But we hae meat, and we can eat, 

Sae let the Lord be thankit.” ’ 

“ In return for that, Eoderick, you shall have 
a piece of this cherry pie,” Mrs. Gordon said, 
playfully. 

“ Pie,” Mr. Gordon repeated. “ Katharine, 
I wonder what kind fairy told our unknown 
cook of my weakness for pie.” 

“ She probably inferred it from her acquaint- 
ance with other men,” Mrs. Gordon replied. 
“ You know, Eoderick, 

“ ‘ These little things, disguise it all you can. 

These little things are dear to mortal man.* ** 

Mr. Gordon bowed. “ I shall begin to think 
that the air of this island stimulates wit as well 
as appetite,” he said, with mock gravity. 

Mrs. Gordon did not answer. She knew her 
husband’s object was to divert her mind from 
painful thoughts, but his kind efforts only 
wearied her. In a listless manner, that showed 
too plainly that the air of Loneman’s Island 


60 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


had not yet given her an appetite, she toyed 
with her food, but ate little. 

‘‘Katharine,” Mr. Gordon asked, after a 
moment’s silence, “ what are you thinking of ? ” 

She looked at him, and tried to smile. “ I 
was wondering if in this world people ever 
could be happy in spite of adverse circum- 
stances, Eoderick.” 

“ Ko,” Mr. Gordon said, with emphasis, “ of 
course not, Katharine. The very derivation 
of the word happiness proves that it depends 
upon our circumstances. It comes, as my good 
old Latin teacher used to delight to explain, 
from a root that means to come to you from 
without, by some fortunate chance or happen- 
ing. So you see, my dear, we cannot by the 
mere exercise of our wills ever make ourselves 
happy.” 

“ Then you do not think we ever can be inde- 
pendent of our circumstances ? ” Mrs. Gordon 
questioned, thoughtfully. 

“ How can we be ? ” Mr. Gordon demanded, 
in an annoyed voice. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Kor anyone else,” Mr. Gordon said, with a 
scornful laugh. 

“ I am not sure of that,” Mrs. Gordon an- 
swered, gently. “ There is my brother, Allan, 
doesn’t his happiness seem independent of cir- 


WE TWO ALONE, 


61 


cumstances ? He has had many trials — you 
know that, Eoderick — and yet ” 

“ Yes,” Mr. Gordon broke in impatiently. 
“ Allan is a good fellow. I am willing to ad- 
mit all you say in his praise, Katharine, for I 
love him almost as well as you do. But sup- 
pose he was here to-day, in just our situation, 
in what way do you think he would prove 
more independent of these trying circumstances 
than we are proving ourselves ? ” 

Mrs. Gordon’s pale face flushed. ‘‘We are 
doing all we can,” she said, “ and, Eoderick, I 
cannot tell you how grateful I am for your 
courage and help, but ” 

“Well, what lack does that ‘but’ imply, 
Katharine ? Tell me the whole. What could 
Allan do here now for you or Donald that I 
cannot do ? ” 

Mrs. Gordon hesitated. “ Don’t think I am 
drawing any comparisons, Eoderick,” she said, 
in a moment, “ but Allan — is a Christian.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” Mr. Gordon exclaimed. “ What 
could a Christian do for Donald now that we 
cannot do ? ” 

“ Nothing — perhaps — Eoderick. But you 
know Christians do believe in prayer. If Allan 
were here now ” 

Mr. Gordon placed the cup he was holding 
on the shelf and walked to the door. “ Are 


62 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND, 


you ready ? ” he asked, coolly. “ I suppose I 
ought to see Captain Power before he starts 
for Greenfields.” 

Slowly, without a word, Mrs. Gordon followed 
her husband. But at the door of Donald’s 
room she said, pleasantly, “ Walk down to the 
beach, Koderick, and perhaps you will meet 
the Captain. I will relieve Job.” 

Yery well, I will be back soon,” and Mr. 
Gordon took his hat from the nail, on which 
he had hung it when he first entered the house, 
and walked away. 

Mrs. Gordon watched him for a moment, 
and then with a great longing for a strength 
that would not fail when human strength gave 
away, she opened Donald’s door. Job sat in 
the rocking-chair, holding the boy, a dark-eyed, 
slender little fellow of eight. The fair, curly 
head was resting confidingly on Job’s arm, 
and the brown eyes were fastened on Job’s 
face, as he slowly rocked back and forth and 
in a low voice sang, 

“ I’ve a Friend that never tires ; 

O, how he loves.” 

“ Do you believe that. Job ? ” 

Job looked up in surprise. Mrs. Gordon 
was standing by his side. “ Y^hy, ma’am, how 
still you did come in,” he said. “ What did 


WE TWO ALONE. 


63 


you ask me ? Do I believe what ? I don’t jest 
understand.” 

“ What you were singing just now. Do you 
believe it ? ” 

“ Oh, that,” Job’s face denoted his surprise 
at the question. “ That is one of the hymns 
they sing in the church at Greenfields where I 
go sometimes,” he explained. 

“ And you believe it. Job ? ” Mrs. Gordon’s 
voice was quiet but very earnest. 

‘‘Why, yes, ma’am, — of course — I ain’t no 
preacher, but I b’lieve — I supposed everybody 
did — don’t you ? in an overruling Providence.” 

“ An overruling Providence,” Mrs. Gordon 
repeated. “What do you mean by that, 
Job?” 

“ Why, ma’am — I ain’t much at explaining, 
but — I mean that I believe in One who orders 
all our lives.” 

“ And does he seem near to you. Job. Does 
it seem as if he could help you in ” — Mrs. Gor- 
don’s voice trembled a little — “ trouble ? ” 

Job rose up and tenderly carried Donald 
back to his low bed. Gently he laid the boy 
down, and then he looked at Mrs. Gordon. 
“I ain’t never questioned much about that, 
ma’am,” he said. “ I ain’t never seemed to 
have to question it. It’s always been one of 
the sure things to me that when I needed help 


64 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

he’d help me. The Bible you know, ma’am, 
saj^s plain that he’s a very present help in 
trouble. There ain’t no if in that verse. It 
reads sure, and I believe it is sure.” 

‘‘A very present help in trouble.” How 
much Mrs. Gordon wanted such a help now. 
She did not speak. She looked sorrowful and 
perplexed. Job waited a few seconds and then 
took up his hat. 

“ I must go now,” he said : me an’ the Cap’n 
want to set off for Greenfields right away after 
dinner. Have you thought of anything else 
we can get you, ma’am % ” 

^^No — I think not — Oh, yes. Stop, Job.” 
Mrs. Gordon called as Job was closing the door. 
“ If there is a bookstore in Greenfields, get me 
a Bible.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 

“ Be of good cheer. Paths vanish from the wave 

Where thousand ships have torn their track of gray : 
But ships undaunted still the desert brave, 

In each a magic finger points the way.” 

George Macdonald, 

S LO WLY for Mrs. Gordon the golden hours of 
that beautiful summer afternoon wore away. 
She was spent and weary in body — for Donald 
had been ill several days and she had been his 
devoted nurse, and she was also exhausted in 
mind. The excitement that had followed the 
doctor’s decision, made very early that morn- 
ing, had now in a great measure passed away. 
They were safe on Loneman’s Island, and Don- 
ald was comfortably sheltered ; that, to her 
mother-heart, that bad asked in such terror that 
morning, ‘‘ What shall we do ? ” was cause for 
deepest thankfulness ; and again and again, as 
she bent over her boy or paced the bare floor of 
their desolate room, Mrs. Gordon assured her- 
self that she was thankful. Yet all the while 

there was a secret dread in her heart, and she 
c 65 


66 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND, 


felt like one who, forced to walk a perilous path, 
does it in fear and trembling, conscious that at 
any moment an unseen enemy may block the 
way and say, “ ]^o farther.” She shrank from 
looking forward ; and still, with that strange 
power for self-torture that the imagination pos- 
sesses she dwelt continually on the dark possibil- 
ities before her. Donald might die — she might 
be sick herself — worst of all her husband might 
be stricken. Let what would come they were 
alone. No friends could come to them; that 
dreary first day on Loneman’s Island was only a 
type of the many dreary days that were to follow 
it. They were like prisoners in the grasp of an 
inexorable power, and escape was impossible. 

Mrs. Gordon cried aloud as that truth in all 
its bitterness came home to her. She was 
standing by one of the windows, for she had 
persuaded Mr. Gordon to rest for a little while 
in the rocker. He was dozing, but at her cry 
he started up. 

“ Did you speak, Katharine ? ” he asked. 

I don’t know,” she answered, absently. 

Mr. Gordon came to the Avindow and looked 
at her anxiously. “ You are very pale,” he 
said, tenderl}^ You cannot bear confinement 
in this wretched room, Katharine, and I am 
going to insist upon your spending several hours 
every day in the open air.” 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 


67 


‘‘Well, I will go out to-morrow,” she an- 
swered, indifferently. 

“ No, you must begin to-day. This is a lovely 
afternoon, and I want you to go out now.” 

“I don’t care to go,” she insisted. “You 
don’t know how hungry and lonely that ocean 
looks to me, Roderick.” 

“ Nonsense,” he said, briskly. “ That’s a 
morbid fancy, Katharine. Here ” — and he 
went to a satchel and took out a book — “ one is 
never lonely who has a good book for company, 
and this is said to be a remarkable novel, and 
its pictures of African life will interest and 
divert you. Take it, my dear, and go out and 
sit on the beach awhile.” 

“ I don’t care to go,” Mrs. Gordon said again. 
But then, as she saw how anxious her husband 
looked, she forced herself to yield to his wishes. 

Taking the book she went out, and crossing 
the green dunes sat down on the beach sands. 
The sunshine was warm, but the glare, that 
often in the morning wearies the eyes on the 
seashore, had passed away. The light was now 
subdued and pleasant, and the wind just strong 
enough to be bracing. 

Mrs. Gordon watched the changing waters 
for a few minutes, and then, with a faint smile 
at her own childishness, she took up a large shell 
lying near her and amused herself by digging 


68 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 

a Avell in the sand. A tiny wave soon filled 
the little hollow, and then, too sad to play 
longer, she threw the shell away and opened 
her book. It was one that had just been pub- 
lished, and the critics were all extolling it as 
strong and very original. 

Mrs. Gordon read the first few pages ; then 
she turned to the last page and scanned that ; 
and then, like one who hj repeated sips would 
satisfy herself of the flavor of a new tea or 
coffee she slowly turned page after page. At 
last a look of utter weariness and disgust set- 
tled down on her face, and with a fierce little 
gesture she closed the book. 

‘‘ It is the blackest novel I ever tried to read,” 
she said to herself. “ Faith, hope, and goodness 
are as wanting in it as if they had no existence 
in life. Oh dear, why will authors who possess 
real genius write such evil books ? ” 

There was no one near to answer that serious 
question, and in a minute Mrs. Gordon’s restless 
mind was struggling with another thought. 

Is there after all any real foundation for 
faith and hope ? ” she asked herself, with a 
weary sigh. “ Is the Christian faith only the 
mystic dream that Roderick thinks it is, or is it 
the glad reality that Allan believes it to be ? 
Oh, if I only could have my doubts satisfied, if 
only I could be sure.” 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 


69 


With eyes that seemed to plead for help to 
solve her doubts Mrs. Gordon looked up at the 
blue sky. But the fleecy clouds had no answer 
for her. They only floated dreamily along, as 
if they were moving to some music she could 
not hear ; and the sea, as it broke at her feet, 
seemed only to chant of some dread power 
that held its proud waters in subjection. With 
a sense of utter helplessness she turned away 
from the beach. 

“Nature seems full of omnipotence,” she 
thought sadly, “ but what comfort is therein 
power unless we can believ^e a father’s hand 
controls and wields it ? ” 

Brooding over that thought she was walking 
back to the house when her foot stumbled, and 
looking down she saw a basket full of daisies 
standing in the path. Her sad face grew bright. 
“ Daisies on this sea-swept island,” she cried. 
“ How beautiful they are : where can they have 
come from ? ” 

“ I brought them,” cried a fresh, young voice. 
Mrs. Gordon looked around. Bethia was stand- 
ing on one of the green dunes a few steps from 
her. 

“ Stay where you are ; don’t come any 
nearer,” Mrs. Gordon called quickly. 

Bethia laughed. “ I am standing to the 
leeward,” she answered. “ I’m not afraid, I’m 


70 


OiV LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


in no danger. Won’t you take the daisies? 
I brought them from Greenfields for you.” 

Mrs. Gordon stooped down and picked up 
the pretty basket ; then she looked again at 
the young girl. 

“ I thank you very much,” she said, grate- 
fully. 

“ I am glad you like ’em. I wanted to tell 
you how^ sorry I feel for you,” Bethia replied ; 
and then with a fleet step she ran olf towards 
the beach. 

Mrs. Gordon looked after her for a few sec- 
onds, and then, with the first natural smile 
her face had worn that day, she carried her 
lovely gift home into the sick room. 

“ Oh, daisies,” Donald cried, as he caught 
sight of the basket. Mamma, bring them 
here, put them down on my bed ; oh, how 
pretty they are.” 

“ Where did you get them, Katharine ? ” 
asked Mr. Gordon. 

A young girl — such a pretty girl, Boderick 
— I suppose she is the Captain’s daughter — gave 
them to me.” 

‘‘ Where did she find them ? ” Mr. Gordon 
asked, curiously. “ I didn’t suppose daisies 
grew on sea dunes.” 

“ She said she brought them from Green- 
fields,” Mrs. Gordon explained. 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 


71 


Ah, I suppose she is a sort of Undine and 
crosses the bay whenever she pleases. I won- 
der, though, that she wasn’t afraid to come 
near you,” Mr. Gordon remarked. 

“ She didn’t come very near me ; we called 
to each other across the dunes.” 

Mr. Gordon smiled bitterly. “ To think of 
our having to be shunned as if we were lepers,” 
he said, fiercely. 

“ I am thankful to think that there is no one 
on this island likely to be harmed by us,” Mrs. 
Gordon answered, gently. “ Eoderick,” she 
continued, as she began to make a daisy chain 
for Donald, “ what do you suppose made that 
girl bring me these flowers ? ” 

“ Her kind heart, I suppose,” Mr. Gordon 
said, in a softened voice. 

“ I suppose so, too,” Mrs. Gordon replied. 
‘‘ I think, judging from this day’s experience, 
that this out-of-the-way bit of the world ought 
to be re-named, and called Kindman’s Island. 
But, Roderick, this is my puzzle — solve it if 
you can, dear — where do people get their kind 
hearts from ? ” 

“Where from? Why — ” Mr. Gordon hesi- 
tated and looked a little mystified — “Why,” 
he repeated, “ I suppose they are born with 
them, Katharine.” 

“ That is just what I suppose,” Mrs. Gordon 


72 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 

answered. “Well, Koderick, I cannot help 
thinking that if God sends his creatures into 
the world with kind hearts, he must himself 
be kind as well as powerful ; and if he is kind, 
then it seems as if it ought to be easy to trust 
him, just as ” — with a little sigh — “ Allan 
does.” 

“ Katharine,” Mr. Gordon exclaimed, “ if 
you talk on that subject any longer I shajl be- 
gin to fear you are going daft. You are as 
unlike your real self to-day as our present sur- 
roundings are unlike our customary ones. Do 
try to be sensible, my dear.” 

“ I wonder,” Mrs. Gordon said quietly, 
“ which is the best proof of a sensible mind, 
Eoderick, to doubt God’s goodness, or to con- 
fide in it.” 

“ Katharine,” Mr. Gordon began, but a loud 
noise outside the house interrupted him. 

“ Here are the men,” he exclaimed, in a glad 
voice, as he looked out of the Avindow. “ They 
are here Avith our furniture. Now, my dear, 
Ave Avill soon have a chair apiece.” 

Mrs. Gordon ran to the door. “ Bring Don- 
ald’s cot first,” she cried. 

“Ay, ay, ma’am,” DaAud ansAvered, as he 
came in Avith his arms full of pilloAv^s and 
bedding. Job folloAved with a light spring 
cot. “ Noav, we’ll soon have the little fellow 


THROUGH THE BOOK, 


73 


fixed comfortable,” he said, in a pleased 
voice. 

Mr. Gordon ran out, and came back bringing 
a large willow chair. 

“ I feel richer with this furniture than I ever 
felt at home with Persian rugs and velvet 
couches,” he said. “ Truly, Katharine, it is 
the want of comfort that teaches us to ap- 
preciate it.” 

“ It ain’t very hard work to make this house 
comfortable,” Job said, as he brought in the 
table for the dining room ; ‘‘ but it does seem 
most too bad not to have no carpets on the 
floors. I’ve looked at these floors many a time 
and thought how handsome they’d be with 
carpets, all covered with red roses, on ’em.” 

“ Carpets with red roses,” Mrs. Gordon re- 
peated, as she set the large lamp that David 
had just handed her on the dining room man- 
tel. She looked at Job a moment, and then, 
with a sudden understanding of the daydreams 
that made his plain life so beautiful, she said 
kindly, “ I hope you will see those carpets here 
some day. Job.” 

“ Ain’t much prospect of that,” Job an- 
swered, as he placed the three chairs around the 
table, and then stood still looking at them. 
“ I reckon this is about the only real furnishin’ 
this house ever will have while I own it. But 


74 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


then,’’ he continued, cheerfully, “ I’ve furnished 
it in imagination a good many times, an’ I’ve 
about concluded that it’s almost as pleasant 
to imagine things as it is to really do ’em. 
’Specially,” Job added, in a serious voice, 
“ when you know you’d be runnin’ a great risk 
if you really did ’em. Oh,” and he hastily 
thrust his hand into the deep pocket of his 
loose coat and drew out a small package, “I’d 
almost forgot, ma’am, but here is the Bible you 
wanted.” 

Mrs. Gordon took the book, and removed the 
paper in which it was wrapped. “Job,” she 
said, “ do you know where that verse is ? ” 

“ What verse, ma’am ? ” Job asked, in a per- 
plexed voice. 

“ The one you repeated to me about a help 
in time of trouble. Don’t you remember ? ” 

“ Oh,” and Job’s puzzled face brightened, 
“ why, yes, ma’am, to be sure I remember it, 
but” — and again he looked troubled — “I’m 
sorry, but I don’t remember just where it is.” 
“ Can’t you guess which book it is in. Job ? ” 
Job shook his head. “ I’d be safer if I tried 
to guess where it isn’t, than where it is,” he 
said. “ I’m a master hand at guessin’ wrong, 
ma’am, but I calc’late that if you’ll begin at 
the beginnin’ an’ look through the book you’ll 
be sure to find it; an’ when you do find it, 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 


75 


ma’am, I hope you’ll take the comfort there is 
in it. For” — and Job’s frank voice grew soft 
with reverence — “ the thought of that present 
help in time of trouble is a great comfort some- 
times when we’re in a hard place.” 

Come, Job,” David Power called just then, 
“ if we don’t hurry, the sun will be down before 
we get the lamp lit.” 

“ I’m cornin’,” Job shouted. And with the 
words, b’lieve I’ve done all I can now, 
ma’am,” he followed his Captain. 

What book is that, Katharine ? ” Mr. Gor- 
don asked, as with the Bible in her hand Mrs. 
Gordon entered Donald’s room. 

“ It’s a book Job brought me,” she said, as she 
placed it on the table. 

Mr. Gordon took it up. ‘‘ A Bible,” he ex- 
claimed. Katharine, are you going to read 
this book ? ” 

Yes,” she said, gravely. 

It will only make you gloomy and morbid,” 
Mr. Gordon said, in an irritated voice. “ Kath- 
arine, I do not want to interfere with your read- 
ing, but I wish you would let me keep this 
book.” 

“ Let me see first if I cannot find something 
in it to help me,” Mrs. Gordon replied. 

“ Help in this book ? ” Mr. Gordon said, as he 
threw the Bible down on the table and turned 


76 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 


'away with a scornful laugh. “ Help means a 
strength to sustain us, and a hand to uphold 
us,” he said, bitterly. “ Katharine, when you 
can find such help in the words of that Bible I 
will sit at your feet and learn of you.” 

Mrs. Gordon sighed. “ I hope I may find 
that help in it, Roderick, for if it is not there, 
it is nowhere,” she said, sadly. 

‘‘ You are not very grateful for my strong 
arms and hands,” Mr. Gordon said, in a sharp 
voice ; and then, with a thrill of self-reproach, 
he added in a softened tone, “ Have your own 
way, my dear, and read your Bible, if reading 
it can give you any pleasure. It will not do 
you any good — the Koran or the Talmud would 
be just as helpful — but do as you please, only — 
if you love me, Katharine, — don’t grow into 
a psalm-singing, cant-talking, self-satisfied 
woman.” 

Mrs. Gordon tried to smile. I never could 
be self-satisfied, Roderick, while I knew I did 
not satisfy you,” she said, gently ; and then 
she dropped the subject, and busied herself in 
some little arrangements for Donald’s comfort. 

“ Katharine.” 

It was ten o’clock that evening ; Donald was 
sleeping, and for some time no word had broken 
the silence of the sick room. How Mr. Gor- 
don’s voice was shrill with pain. “ Katharine,” 


THROUGH TUE BOOK. .77 

he said, “do you know what I have been 
thinking ? ” 

“ Nothing very cheerful, I am afraid.” 

“ I should think not. I have just realized 
how entirely out of humanity’s reach Ave are. 
We cannot eA^en write to any of our friends, for 
our letters now Avould be as unwelcome as our 
presence.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Gordon said, sorrowfully, “I 
have thought of that, Eoderick, and it is a 
strange kind of comfort — but it is a comfort 
just at present — to know that there is no one 
to be anxious about us. Your friends are all 
across the ocean, and mine are scattered for 
their summer outings all OA’^er the country. 
Allan is the only one Avho Avill miss my letters, 
and he is travelling in the mountains now, and 
knoAving Ave Avere going to the seashore he 
won’t feel troubled if he does not hear from us 
in some weeks.” 

Mr. Gordon moA^ed uneasily in his chair. “ I 
do not find much comfort in your Avords, Kath- 
arine,” he said, gloomily. “ Suppose Ave should 
need help that we cannot give each other, 
Avhere is it to come from ? ” 

Mrs. Gordon started : her husband’s thoughts 
seemed to be travelling over the same dismal 
road that her OAvn had passed that afternoon. 

“ Comfort is a word that does not seem to 


78 ON LON EM AN ’ S ISLAND. 

belong in our vocabulary, just at present,” she 
said, mournfully. 

I do not need to be informed of that,” Mr. 
Gordon retorted, in a bitter tone. 

There was a brief silence, and then Mrs. 
Gordon said : There is a line of an old hymn 
I have often heard Allan sing that keeps run- 
ning through my mind noAV : 

‘ All my help from thee I bring.’ 

I think that is true of us now,” she added, 
in a voice so low that Mr. Gordon scarcely 
heard it. 

^ All my help from thee I bring, ^ ” he re- 
peated, “ what does that mean, who is ‘ thee,’ 
Katharine ? ” 

I suppose — God,” she said, gravely. 

“ Katharine” — Mr. Gordon checked the hasty 
words he felt tempted to utter, and contented 
himself with lighting a small lamp. 

“Here, my dear,” he said, “take this lamp 
and go upstairs, and try to sleep off the mel- 
ancholy that seems to possess you. Yes, go,” 
he insisted, as she hesitated. “ I will call you 
if Donald needs you. Go, and when I see you 
again try, for both our sakes, to be your real 
self. I do not know you in the religious cloak 
you have been wearing to-day.” 

Too weary to oppose her husband Mrs. Gordon 


THROUGH THE BOOK, 


79 


took the lamp and went silently upstairs. 
The room, with its white bed, its willow rocker, 
and little table, looked very comfortable to her 
tired eyes. The windows were open ; it was a 
moonlight night, and the great ocean was glow- 
ing like a sea of molten gold mingled with fire. 
She watched it for a little while, and then 
suddenly she remembered her Bible. She had 
brought it upstairs when in the early evening 
she had come up to make the bed. She was 
tired but not sleepy : perhaps it would rest her 
now and banish painful thoughts if she looked 
for Job’s verse. 

It was with a curious sensation that she 
opened the little book. She was a finely 
educated woman. She had been all her life 
surrounded by books, and in poetry, history, 
fiction, and even in the arts and sciences she 
was well-read. And yet it seemed strange at 
that moment even to herself — she could not 
remember ever having read a chapter in the 
Bible. Her mother had died when she was a 
mere child, and her father — who was still liv- 
ing — was, like her husband, a materialist; 
believing in nothing his five senses could not 
explain to him. The Bible had been utterly 
ignored in her education. It was to her simply 
one of the world’s sacred books. She had never 
thought of it as having a special message for 


80 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


herself. Now as she turned its pages her eyes 
lingered on many passages that seemed wonder- 
ful in their beauty and depth of thought, but 
the one verse she was seeking seemed very hard 
to find, and she wanted that particular verse ; 
she Avanted to satisfy herself as to the exact 
nature of that very present help. 

At last, just as the hands of her little watch 
pointed to tAvelve, she found the 46th Psalm. 
In a reverent, low voice she read aloud, 

“ God is our refuge and strength, 

A very present help in trouble. 

Therefore will not we fear.” 

Tears blinded Mrs. Gordon’s eyes, and she 
dropped the book. Her own heart was full of 
fears, and yet here, in words so sure and so 
strong that they seemed to make doubt impos- 
sible, she read of a refuge in Avhich help was 
ever present, and fear — a defeated enemy — had 
no power to disturb one’s peace. 

Was it true, or Avas it, as her husband Avould 
tell her, only the poetical fancy of a visionary 
poet soul ? Hoav could she solve her doubts, 
and learn Avhat Avas the truth ? Scarcely know- 
ing what she did in her painful perplexity, Mrs. 
Gordon once more took up the Bible. 

There are times Avhen it seems as if angel 
hands were commissioned by our Father in 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 


81 


heaven to turn the pages of the Bible for us, 
and show the promise or command for which 
our souls are waiting. And now, as Mrs. Gor- 
don opened the Bible, scarcely knowing what 
she wanted or where to look, the pages seemed 
to fall apart, through no will of her own, and 
clearly as if they were printed in letters of gold, 
she read : Search the scriptures.” As one 
treading an unknown road is told by a wise 
guide to turn to the right and at once obeys, 
so Mrs. Gordon accepted that simple, clear com- 
mand as her first duty. Many long days might 
pass before her search would satisfy her doubts 
and bring her peace of mind; but the first 
step had been shown her, and she resolved to 
take it. It was two o’clock when with her 
Bible in her hand she went down to her hus- 
band. Donald was still sleeping, and Mr. Gor- 
don was impatiently walking the floor. 

“ Why, Katharine,” he exclaimed, “ Avhat has 
brought you back so soon ? I wanted you to 
sleep all night, you needed the rest.” 

‘‘ I am rested,” she said, calmly. 

Mr. Gordon took the little lamp from her and 
held it so that he could see her face. “ Have 
you been asleep ? ” he asked, doubtfully. 

Ho — but — ” She hesitated a second, then 
she gained courage and said bravely : ‘‘ Kod- 
erick, I have come to tell you. I have been 


82 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


reading this book.” And she held up the 
Bible. 

“Have you? Welb Katharine, what good 
has it done you ? ” 

“ I don’t know — none perhaps, yet, for, Bod- 
erick, I feel sure of nothing. But I have found 
precious things in this book — if only they are 
true. And oh ” — and the brave voice trembled 
now — “ 0 Eoderick, I do hope they are true.” 

“ They are not.” Mr. Gordon’s tone was 
firm and positive. “ They are only myths and 
dreams mixed in with fragments of old Jewish 
history.” 

“You do not know the certainty of what 
you have asserted, Eoderick” — and now Mrs. 
Gordon’s voice was as firm as her husband’s — 
“ have you ever studied the Bible ? ” 

“ No, my time and thought have been given 
to more profitable study.” 

“ I have found one command in this book that 
has decided me,” Mrs. Gordon said, seriously. 
“ It is, ‘ Search the scriptures.’ The Author of 
this book is willing that it should be judged 
simply by what it is in itself. He tells us 
that it is true, and then he bids us satisfy our- 
selves of its truth by giving it careful and faith- 
ful study. Eoderick, I think that requirement 
is fair and honorable. I think true men and 
women ought to be equally fair and honorable 


THROUGH THE BOOK. 


83 


in complying with it. And so, Koderick, from 
this time I mean to be a Bible student.” 

“ And what do you suppose your study will 
make of you ? ” Mr. Gordon demanded, sternly. 

‘‘I don’t know — I hope a believer in the 
truth, — whatever the truth may be.” 

Mr. Gordon turned from her with a sup- 
pressed groan. 

“ Katharine,” he said, you will separate our 
lives. I have no faith in that Bible. I do not 
believe in its claim of inspiration. If you per- 
sist in its study, and are weak enough to be- 
lieve in it, all that makes our life harmonious 
— our common views and interests and beliefs 
— wiU be destroyed. Katharine, trust to my 
judgment, and yield to my wishes in this matter 
— let that book alone.” 

Mrs. Gordon did not speak at once. The 
temptation to yield to her husband was great, 
but the need of her soul was greater. 

“ Eoderick,” she said soon, in a sad but firm 
voice, I cannot give this Bible up now. I 
shall never be happy until I know from my 
own study Avhether it is true or false.” 

Mr. Gordon smiled bitterly. ^‘You are 
setting yourself a hard task,” he said, severely. 

You will need more than the wisdom of Sol- 
omon to accomplish it ; but you must do as you 
please ; only I trust you will have regard enough 


84 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


for my wishes to keep that book out of my 
sight. I desire never to see nor hear of it 
again.” 

Mrs. Gordon looked at him imploringly. 

O Koderick,” she began, but with an im- 
patient gesture he checked her. 

The less we say on this subject hereafter, 
the less there will be to regret,” he said, em- 
phatically, and passing her he opened the door 
and went out. 


CHAPTER V. 


WHAT SHE WANTED. 

“ How oft has bitter tear been shed, 

And heaved how many a groan, 

Because thou wouldst not give for bread 
The thing that was a stone ! ” 

George Macdonald, 

‘‘ AH dear, what a mean morning this is! ” 

^ It was Bethia who spoke. She was stand- 
ing at the kitchen door and looking out with 
a face expressive of great dissatisfaction. All 
around her like a curtain hung a thick, gray fog. 
She could not see the ocean, the beach banks 
were hidden, and even the outline of Job’s cot- 
tage could be but just discerned. The salt mist 
tightened the curly rings of hair that shaded 
the girl’s forehead, and deepened the color in 
her cheeks ; but it hid the sunshine, it made 
Loneman’s Island seem like a dreary bit of 
land separated from all the rest of the world, 
and it made Bethia feel gloomy and depressed. 

“ I do just hate this old island,” she said, in 
a vexed tone. “ It is lonely enough here when 
the sun shines, and we can see across the bay, 

85 


86 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


but when we are shut in by a fog it is just like 
a prison. I wonder what fogs are good for, 
mother.” 

“ I guess this one will be good to teach you 
patience with the things you can’t help,” Mrs. 
Power said, as she came to the door with her 
broom. Do stand aside, Beth,” she ordered. 
“I want to sweep off the steps. Seems to 
me,” she added, as she glanced at the girl’s 
fresh cambric dress, since you don’t like this 
fog you might just as well keep out of it. 
Y our dress is as limp now as if it had never 
been starched.” 

“ 1 don’t care for my dress,” Bethia answered, 
but she left the door, and with quick hands 
went about her morning duties. 

“ Mother,” she said, in a minute, what time 
will Mr. and Mrs. Gordon want their break- 
fast?” 

I guess they’ll, one or both of ’em, be ready 
for it as soon as we get it,” Mrs. Power 
answered wisely. ‘‘ People who watch all night 
aren’t good for much in the morning until 
they’ve had their coffee.” 

“ What will you give them beside cof- 
fee?” 

“Oh, toast, I guess, an’ eggs. We’ve got 
some beautiful fresh ones, you know.” 

Bethia nodded. “ Pll cook them,” she said. 


WHAT SHE WANTED, 


87 


I’ll bake them, mother,” and going into the 
pantry the girl brought out a small dish, an 
egg beater, and four eggs. 

With quick, deft movements she broke' 
the eggs and then proceeded to beat the 
whites. Mrs. Power looked on with a troubled 
face. ^^I’m afraid you won’t get them just 
right, Beth,” she said, anxiously. 

Yes, I will,” Bethia answered, I know just 
how to do ’em, mother. I read the receipt in 
a paper. You beat the whites stiff, then you 
drop ’em in four parts on this buttered tin, and 
right in the middle of each part you drop a 
yelk. Then you whisk ’em into the oven, and 
in a few minutes you take them out looking like 
white flowers with yellow cente!*s. There” — 
and suiting her own actions to her words, Bethia 
placed a tin of eggs in the oven — “ now, mother, 
you’ll see ” 

Mrs. Power still looked anxious. “ I can see 
that you are taking a good deal of trouble, 
Beth, but I am not sure that I’ll see anything 
very good from it,” she said, doubtfully. I 
believe they would have liked plain boiled eggs 
just as well.” 

No, they wouldn’t,” Bethia said, with assur- 
ance. Looks have a great deal to do with 
some folks’ enjoyment of what they eat, and 
these baked eggs do look very pretty ; and as 


88 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

for the trouble — why, mother, trouble’s nothing 
when you like people.” 

“ You can’t like people when you don’t know 
them,” Mrs. Power said, sagely. 

Bethia stopped half way betw^een the table 
and the stove, and looked at her mother with a 
surprised face. “ Why, mother,” she exclaimed, 
it is queer, isn’t it ? I don’t know those peo- 
ple — that is true — and yet I feel as if I knew 
Mrs. Gordon almost as Avell as I know anyone. 
I do believe I love her, mother. It does seem 
strange that I should feel so, and I wonder why 
I do.” 

“ Perhaps it’s because you’ve been kind to 
her,” Mrs. Power suggested. I think we 
generally do feel as if we know the people we 
are kind to — maybe it is because our hearts get 
acquainted so.” 

‘‘Well, maybe that is the reason,” Bethia 
said, thoughtfully, “but still it doesn’t seem 
the whole reason, for you know, mother, 1 saw 
and spoke to Mrs. Gordon yesterday.” 

“ You spoke to Mrs. Gordon,” Mrs. Power 
echoed, with all her motherly fears aroused. 
“ O Beth, how could you ? ” 

“ Oh, easily,” Bethia said, with a little laugh. 
“ You needn’t be frightened, mother, we were 
on the beach banks. I didn’t go near her, but 
1 could see her face and hear her voice ; and, 


WHAT SHE WANTED. 


89 


mother,” — and now, unconsciously, the girl’s 
gay tone sobered and grew earnest and emphat- 
ic — “ I know now just what I want to be. I 
want to be like Mrs. Gordon.” 

“ Like Mrs. Gordon,” Mrs. Power repeated. 
“ Bethia Power, what do you mean ? I don’t 
want you to be getting high notions, that never 
can be realized. I understand that Mrs. Gordon 
is a very rich woman. It isn’t likely that you 
can ever be like her.” 

“ I don’t mean like her in being rich,” 
Bethia answered, seriously. ‘^It isn’t money 
that I am hungry for : but, mother, there is 
something about Mrs. Gordon that is diiferent 
from all the other women I’ve ever seen. It 
seemed to me yesterday that there was some- 
thing about her that said, lady, and while I 
looked at her I seemed to see just what I want 
to be — just what I know I never shall be satis- 
fied until I am, mother.” 

“You are a poor man’s daughter, Beth,” 
Mrs. Power said, gravely, “ you’ll have to work 
— in some way— most likely, all your life. And 
ladies are something like lilies, they neither 
toil nor spin. Now I would like to know how 
you expect to be changed into a lady ? ” 

“ I wish I could tell you,” Bethia returned, 
“ for then, mother, I would know how to begin : 
but I can tell you this, mother, I don’t believe 


90 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


it is work that makes the great difference 
between folks like the Gordons and folks like 
ns. Mrs. Gordon had a book in her hand, yes- 
terday. Mother, do you know that we haven’t 
had a new book in this house since father 
bought me my fourth reader, three years ago.” 

“ It takes money to buy books,” Mrs. Power 
replied, and money is needed for so many 
useful things, Beth, that we never seem to have 
any for luxuries.” 

“I’d be willing to do without the useful 
things if you would only give me the luxuries,” 
Bethia said — with no suspicion that she was 
echoing the words of one of our greatest wits — 
but her bright speech was lost on Mrs. Power. 

“ You’d better look at your eggs,” she said, 
coolly : and thus reminded of her present duty 
Bethia flew to the oven. 

“ They are baked beautifully,” she declared, 
as she drew out the tin. “Now, mother, we 
must send the breakfast right over — I wish you 
would let me take it to the door,” she added, 
in a coaxing voice. 

“I thought I settled that question yester- 
day,” Mrs. Power said sharply, while at the 
same time she went about her work with in- 
creased energy. “Bethia, you wouldn’t be 
your father’s child if you hadn’t a little com- 
mon sense, and now I just want you to act like 


WHAT SHE WANTED. 


91 


a sensible girl, and put these new high-flier no- 
tions out of your head. I am sorry these peo- 
ple had to come here in their trouble, but I 
suppose God sent ’em, and so I’m Avilling to do 
my Christian duty by ’em ; but I can’t have 
you get unsettled and discontented, just because 
you are not, and cannot ever be, like Mrs. Gor- 
don.” 

But that is what I can’t understand,” Bethia 
interposed. “ Why is it so impossible for me 
to be some day like Mrs. Gordon ? ” 

‘‘ Because you don’t own a gold mine, and 
don’t know where to find one,” Mrs. Power 
said, severely. “ I expect Mrs. Gordon has had 
every advantage that money could give her, 
and there isn’t any way in the world — that I 
know of — by which your father and I can get 
the money to give you such advantages, and 
make a lady of you. I’m sorry for you, but I 
do think you ought to try to be contented as 
you are. Your parents are poor people, Bethia, 
but they are honest an’ respectable. Your 
father has his family tree, an’ you can count 
nine generations on it, since the first Power 
came over from England, an’ in all those gen- 
erations there has never been a Power that dis- 
graced his family. You have something to be 
proud of, Bethia — something to thank God for 
— that you are the child of respectable people 


92 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


who have an honest ancestry for which they 
have no cause to blush.” 

Bethia looked thoughtfully at her mother. 
“ I suppose ancestors are good things to have,” 
she said, slowly, but after all, mother, my 
ancestors cannot live my life for me ; and it is 
not what they were a hundred years ago, but 
it is what I am, and am to be, that seems to 
me the important question ” 

“ It will take a good many years to answer 
that question, I imagine,” Mrs. Power said, 
as she finished her breakfast preparations. 
“ ISTow find Job and tell him the basket is 
ready, and do you stop wishing you were some- 
body else, and just try to make the girl you 
are as good as possible.” 

“ Yes, mother,” Bethia answered, obediently, 
and putting her pink sun bonnet on her curly 
head she started to look up Job. He was soon 
found, and then Bethia walked over the dunes, 
and sat down in an old boat that was drawn 
up high on the sandy beach. Her whole nature 
was in revolt ; her mother’s sharp words had 
pierced like needles. Was there really no hope 
for her, must she always remain on that lonely 
island, could she never go to school, never 
have books, never have any opportunity to im- 
prove herself ? 

^‘Mother doesn’t understand, and I don’t 


WHAT SHE WANTED. 


93 


know how to make her understand,” the poor 
girl said to herself, while the hot tears filled 
her eyes. “ It isn’t money that I’m longing for, 
and it isn’t fine clothes. I am willing to work 
jand work hard, if that is my duty ; but oh, I do 
want to know things, and I want . to go, and I 
want to see. When I look at my geography, 
and think what a great world this is, and re- 
member that I have lived all my life on this 
island, and never been off it, except to go to 
Greenfields, I feel like taking a boat and going 
out to sea by myself. Mother says this is my 
place, for God has put me here, does he mean 
for me to stay here always, I wonder; then 
Avhy has he given me this hunger for the things 
I cannot have here. Doesn’t he want me to 
know things ? then why has he made me so 
hungry for books that I felt yesterday like 
begging Mrs. Gordon to give me the one I saw 
in her hand. Oh why — why — if I must always 
be what I am now — am I made with such a 
longing to be what I cannot be ? 

Poor little Bethia ; with her earnest nature, 
her passionate heart, and her hungry mind, so 
full of cravings that seemed doomed always to 
be denied and disappointed. She made a sad 
but pretty picture as she sat there alone in the 
old boat that summer morning. The mist had 
lifted now, and lay in great banks along the 


94 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


horizon ; the sky was clear, and the wind was 
soft and warm. Bethia looked up at the far- 
away, beautiful canopy above her, and then 
off over the tossing opal waters. A sense of 
infinite power blended with exquisite peace 
stole over her unquiet spirit. Yes,” she said 
aloud in a dreamy tone, “ it’s all beautiful here 
— I know it is. If I were only — a starfish” — 
she exclaimed impulsively, as she noticed one 
of the strange, five-rayed, little creatures lying 
in the bottom of the boat — I suppose I would 
be satisfied with sky and sea ; but — I don’t 
know v^hy, unless it is because I am not meant 
to be satisfied with them — the sight of the sea 
only makes me long to travel, and the sky 
makes me long to know, and reach all that is 
unknown and far above me. Oh dear, I am 
not and I cannot be satisfied here, and I do 
think I am a very miserable girl.” 

Just then Job came across the sands, dragging 
a light boat. 

“ Halloo, Beth,” he called. There’s a 
school of bluefish jest off here. I’m goin’ out 
to get one for dinner. Don’t you want to 
go?” 

Bethia sprang up, and out of the old boat. 
She was used to going out on the ocean with 
her father and Job. She was a true viking’s 
daughter, and the motion of the boat as it 


WHAT SHE WANTED. 


95 


danced over the breaking waves was a delight 
of Avhich she never grew tired. 

“ Don’t I want to go ? ” she said now. Yes, 
indeed, Job. I’d rather do it than any thing else 
that I can do. Only ” — with a sudden and 
regretful recollection of her neglected morning 
duties — “ I am afraid mother will want me.” 

“ She’s over wantin’ you,” Job answered. 

She’s done up all the work without you, 
Beth, an’ she told me, if I found you, to take you 
with me. She said you needed heartenin’ up, 
an’ she guessed the wind an’ water would 
do you good. You’ve got a kind mother, 
Bethia.” 

“Yes, I know I have,” Bethia said, soberly, 
and without another word she followed Job 
down to the water’s edge, and waited for him 
to launch his boat. 

“ Now, Beth,” — and Job lifted her in his 
strong arms, and placed her carefully in the 
boat. “Now you can take one pair of the 
oars,” he said, as he pushed his light craft out 
into the sea. 

Bethia took the oars, and Job steered towards 
the great school of bluefish that was plung- 
ing over and under the waves not far from the 
shore. 

“ I’m goin’ to troll for ’em to-day,” he said. 
“ I don’t care to take many, an’ I’ve brought 


96 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND, 


a line for you, Beth : don’t you want to try 
your luck ? ” 

Bethia’s eyes flashed with the pleasure of a 
true disciple of Isaak Walton. “ Oh, yes,” she 
said, eagerly. 

Job gave her a line, and then they rested on 
their oars and trolled for the finny creatures, so 
many in number that, as Job said, “ It was 
most as easy to catch ’em as to do nothin’.” 

“ One, two, three, four, five, six,” Bethia said 
soon. Job, we’ve got enough. Let’s go home. 
Mother Avill want one to cook for dinner.” 

“ That’s so,” Job answered; but it was some 
minutes before he could overcome his reluctance 
to draw in his line. “ Well, Bethia,” he said, 
when he had finally made up his mind to turn 
shoreward, ‘‘ I’m pretty well satisfied with this 
mornin’s sport, ain’t you ? ” 

Bethia was splashing her oars idly in the 
water. “ No,” she said, in a deliberate voice. 
‘^I’ve had a pleasant morning. Job, but I can- 
not say that I am satisfied. Satisfied is a big 
word. Job, it means a great deal.” 

“ Does.it ? ” Job returned, with a little of the 
brightness gone from his face and tone, well, 
now, Bethia, I wish you’d tell me jest Avhat 
that big word means to you. What would 
satisfy you ? ” 

‘^Satisfy me,” Bethia’s brown eyes opened 


WHAT SHE WANTED. 


97 


wide. O Job, it’s hard to tell you. I want 
so much. I want books, I want friends — 
friends wiser and better than I am. Job, — who 
would help me to grow like them. And then 
I want a change — I want to see the world. 
Why, Job, I am so hungry and thirsty for things 
I can’t have — and there are so many such things 
you know — that sometimes it seems to me that 
I want the whole world.” 

“ You want more than that, Bethia.” Job 
spoke soberly, almost sadly. 

“ More,” Bethia looked a little puzzled. 
^^Well,” she said, in a moment, if I want 
more, I am sure I’m to be pitied. Job, for I 
am not likely to get even what I know I want.” 

“ You can’t tell — you don’t know — you are 
young an’ the years may bring you great chances 
an’ changes.” Job spoke slowly, and, forgetting 
to row, he drew in one of his oars and leaned 
upon it. “ Bethia,” he said, earnestly, “ there’s 
one thing I must tell you, for I’m sure it’s the 
truth. You’ll never be satisfied in this world 
until you are hungry for something out of it.” 

Something out of this world,” Bethia re- 
peated, while a little perplexed frown wrinkled 
her smooth young forehead. “ When I can’t 
get the things that really are in this world, 
Job, I would like to know how I am ever to 
get anything out of it.” 

7 


98 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

Job looked up at a fleecy cloud that was 
floating in the summer sky. There was a far- 
away look in his eyes, and his voice was low 
and dreamy. “ It ain’t really out of this 
world,” he said, “it is always here; but it 
isn’t in the gold, an’ silver, nor in the books, 
nor even in the friends that you are so hungry 
for, Bethia. It’s God’s love that you want to 
know, an’ when you begin to know that, then 
you’ll begin to be satisfied.” 

Bethia did not speak for several moments. 
Then in a troubled voice she said : “ I was 
thinking of God while I sat there in the old 
boat. Job. I was wondering why he has made 
me as he has if he is going to keep me as I am. 
It seems to me” — and now there was a de- 
fiant light in the girl’s eyes — “ that it is a great 
waste of material to make people capable of 
being something, and then to put them where 
they can be and do nothing.” 

“ God doesn’t do that,” Job said, reverently. 

“ Then if he doesn’t I would like to know 
who does do it ? ” Bethia said, with emphasis. 
“ I know I didn’t choose to be brought to this 
out-of-the-world island when I was a baby ; 
and I know, too, that I don’t want to live 
here all my life, just like an oyster that 
never moves fronx the place where you first 
plant it,” 


WHAT SHE WANTED, 


99 


“ Oh, Bethia, don’t,” Job said, pleadingly. 

When you talk so it almost seems as if you 
didn’t love your father an’ mother nor — any 
one on this island.” 

“ But I do love them,” Bethia insisted, tear- 
fully. “ I love them dearly — dearly,^ and I love 
you, too. Job. You don’t know how much I 
care,’' — the girl paused a moment and then, in 
a sad voice, she said, It’s no use for us to 
talk about this. Job. Mother couldn’t under- 
stand me this morning, and I don’t suppose 
you can now.” 

Job looked at Bethia’s tearful face for a mo- 
ment and then with sudden energy he bent to 
his oars. The little boat flew shoreward and 
not another word was spoken until they touched 
the beach. Then as he placed Bethia on the 
dry sand Job said, gently, There’s One who 
can understand you, Bethia, if none of your 
home friends can. Why don’t you tell all your 
troubles an’ longin’s to God ? ” 

“ Because I don’t know where to And him,” 
Bethia said, passionately. ‘^Why, I am not 
even sure that God is real. Job,” she confessed, 
as she darted away from him and ran towards 
the lighthouse. 

Job stood still a moment and looked after 
the girl. “ Oh you poor child,” he said, sorrow- 
fully, “ you do need help — that’s true. An’ we 


100 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


don’t none of us know how to help you — that’s 
true, too.” 

Job sighed heavily as he turned and began 
to unload his boat. Presently he stopped, raised 
his hat, and looked up reverently at the sky. 

It’s a great comfort, sometimes,” he said, 
humbly, to remember that there is One above 
us an’ around us who knows all, an’ can do all. 
There’s a great rest in that thought in the times 
when the load seems heavy, an’ things look 
dark.” 


CHAPTER YI. 


A THOUGHT THAT HELPED. 

“ Who comes to God an inch, through doubtings dim, 
In blazing light God will advance a mile to him.” 

From the Persian* 

rjIHERE are few who do not know, from sad 
experience, how slowly and wearily in times 
of sickness and anxiety the hours and days pass 
by. It was but three days, or, as Mrs. Gordon 
said, with a pitiful attempt at a smile, but fifty- 
five hours since the Gordons had found a re- 
fuge in Job’s cottage : but it seemed to them a 
month. It was a quiet afternoon, brilliant with 
sunshine, and — except for the sea breeze that 
now and then swept in through the open win- 
dows — very warm. Job had come in, as he 
kindly said, to take his turn at nursing Donald, 
and Mr. Gordon had yielded to his wife’s en- 
treaties and gone upstairs to rest. Mrs. Gor- 
don had promised to go out for a walk along 
the beach. She had put on her hat, and gone 
to the door, but there she paused. Job sat by 
the cot on which Donald was feverishly tossing : 


102 


ON LON EM AN ''S ISLAND. 


for a minute or two Mrs. Gordon stood still and 
studied his face. It was sunburnt, and freckled ; 
his features were irregular, and his hair red and 
coarse ; his expression was mild and pleas- 
ant, but his whole appearance was that of a 
poor, hard-working man of only ordinary in- 
telligence. "With a sigh, and a little shake of 
her head, Mrs. Gordon looked down at the Bible 
in her hand; then once more her eyes wan- 
dered to Job. It did not seem possible that he 
could help or advise her, but after a moment’s 
hesitation she crossed the room, and stood by 
his chair. 

“ Job,” she said, softly. 

“ Yes, ma’am,” Job answered, respectfully. 
“ Can I do anything for you ? ” 

I don’t know — perhaps so — Job, have you 
studied the Bible much ? ” 

I read it — some parts that is — a consider- 
able,” Job said, in a slow voice, as if he were 
weighing every word. “ I’ve picked out a good 
many of thQ promises, an’ I’ve read Matthew, 
an’ Mark, an’ Luke, an’ John, — they tell about 
our Saviour, you know, ma’am. But if you 
mean, have I studied the Bible, so that I can 
tell what all the hard things in it mean, jest 
like a minister — why no, ma’am, I ain’t never 
done that, I ain’t took laming enough to do it.” 
Job sighed a little at the close oi his humble 


A THOUGHT THAT HELPED. 


103 


confession, but in an instant he looked at Mrs. 
Gordon with a happy smile. It don’t matter 
much if there are some hard Bible places,” he 
said, contentedly, the promises are all easy to 
understand.” 

Mrs. Gordon stood still a moment, then she 
said slowly, “Job, are you sure the Bible is 
true, are you sure there is a God ? ” 

“ Sure ? ” Job looked up with an expression 
of almost terror in his face. “Sure,” he re- 
peated. “Why, ma’am, what would life be 
worth to me if I wasn’t sure ? What could I 
do ” — and the earnest voice trembled a little 
— “ if I hadn’t a God to believe in, and ” — with 
a tender intonation — “ pray to ? ” 

“ You are sure then,” Mrs. Gordon said, with 
a note of relief in her voice. “ I think it must 
be beautiful to have such confidence, Job ; but 
suppose there was some one who was not sure, 
as you are, some one, perhaps, who doubted the 
Bible, and didn’t feel sure even about — God, 
where would you advise that person to begin 
to read this book ? ” And she gently touched 
the Bible in her hand. 

Job considered that question a few moments, 
then he said : “ I see, ma’am, you can’t take no 
comfort in the promises until you’re sure God 
really spoke ’em, an’ so it ain’t tender words 
that you want now, but it’s reasons and proofs.” 


104 OJSf LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 

Mrs. Gordon had not expected Job to make 
such a personal application of her question, but 
she did not attempt to deny the truth. 

“ Yes,” she acknowledged, reasons and 
proofs are just what I do want. Job, for ” — and 
her voice trembled a little — it is not easy for 
me to believe.” 

“ It’s hard for me to advise you, ma’am,” Job 
said, humbly, “ because you see I ain’t wise, 
an’ then I can’t speak from my own experience 
— ’cause I ain’t never doubted.” 

Tears filled Mrs. Gordon’s eyes. “ Oh you 
humble, blessed child-heart, what is the world’s 
boasted wisdom in comparison Avith your simple 
faith,” she thought. But she did not speak. 
She only waited eagerly and almost reverently 
for J ob to go on. 

There was only a little pause, and then in a 
slow, thoughtful voice. Job said, ‘^It seems to 
me, ma’am, that if I was you, I’d do with the 
Bible, jest as the children do with their new 
books when they go to school. They always 
begin at the beginnin’, you knoAv, ma’am, an’ 
then it’s step by step, jest like goin’ up the 
lighthouse stairs, an’ I shouldn’t wonder” — 
and Job’s face grew bright with a neAV thought 
— if when you get through the Bible, you’d 
find it was really like goin’ to the top of the 
lighthouse — you know there’s a great lamp there 


V 


A THOUGHT THAT HELPED. 


105 


an’ the light is very bright. Yes, it does seem 
to me, ma’am, that I’d begin with Genesis an’ 
then” — and Job smiled encouragingly — when 
you come to the promises, an’ to Matthew, an’ 
Mark, an’ Luke, an’ John, I b’lieve you will be 
ready for ’em.” 

‘‘ Thank you. Job.” Mrs. Gordon laid her 
hand tenderly for a moment on her boy’s hot 
head, and then walked quickly out of the room, 
and into the sweet, pure air of the summer day. 
With the firm step of one who has a purpose to 
accomplish, she crossed the green dunes. She 
came presently to a little cup-like hollow, the 
work of the winds and storms of many long 
past years. All around the dunes — except for 
a little opening towards the sea — stood like 
sentinels. In the hollow itself there was not 
a growing thing ; the white sand of the sea- 
shore had blown through it, and drifted in it, 
perhaps for centuries. The dunes around were 
just high enough to hide any one who nestled 
down in the hollow, and with a sense of seclu- 
sion and aloneness that suited her mood that 
afternoon, she threw herself down on the warm 
sand. 

For a little while she rested idly, then she 
remembered her purpose and opened her Bible. 

I suppose,” she said to herself, with a little 
smile, “ if the whole Bible is true, I might as 


106 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


well begin at the beginning — as Job advises — 
and read it through. Let me see, what is the 
first verse in Genesis. I wonder if I have ever 
read it ? ’’ Hastily she turned to the first page 
of her Bible and read aloud : 

‘‘ In the beginning God created the heaven 
and the earth.” 

“ In the beginning God ” — she began for the 
second time ; then she stopped, she could read 
no farther. At the fourth word in the Bible she 
was met with an emphatic assurance that the 
God whose being she doubted surely existed. 
For some moments she looked down on the 
page, with the perplexed expression of one who 
was trying to decipher the meaning of a word 
in an unknown language. 

“ God,” she said, solemnly, what is God ? 
I wonder what the Bible tells about his 
character.” 

She had already examined her Bible enough 
to know that it contained a concordance. “ I 
will look out the passages that describe God,” 
she thought ; and then for awhile nothing broke 
the silence of the little hollow save the grand 
hallelujah chorus of the ocean. 

Presently Mrs. Gordon closed her Bible. 
There was a new light in her eyes ; and a new 
tone in her voice as she exclaimed, “ Oh how 
wonderful — how wonderful this is. I feel as 


A THOUC^HT THAT HELPED. 


107 


if I had had a revelation. Here, all my life, I 
have known nothing of God but his name, and 
now I find that he is light, he is life, he is truth, 
he is love : he fills all space, he has all power, 
and all wisdom ; he is the one mind that creates, 
controls, and upholds the universe. He is all, 
and beside him there is no other. Oh, what a 
wonderful God ! ” 

Mrs. Gordon clasped her hands above her 
Bible, and sat for a few moments gazing with 
dreamy eyes, that took little note of what they 
saw, on the white sails of a passing ship. Sud- 
denly her expression changed ; a great “If” had 
entered her mind. 

“ Yes,” she said, wearily, “ this is all wonder- 
ful, if it is true, but is it true ? It is all in the 
Bible, but now what satisfactory proof have I 
that the Bible is true. I cannot accept it on 
the mere assertion of an ignorant man like poor 
Job. I must have proofs that will convince my 
reason and satisfy my heart, and where in this 
world can I find such proofs ? ” • 

Just then there came a sudden gust of wind. 
It blew open the closed Bible in her lap and 
then passed on. When God’s children need 
help, and there is no human eye to pity and no 
human voice to counsel, even a passing wind 
can be made a messenger of blessing. With a 
quick, impatient gesture she raised her hand to 


108 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND, 


close the Bible, when her eyes fell on these 
words : 

‘^By their fruits ye shall know them. Do 
men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ? ” 

‘^Wonderful,’’ she exclaimed again, after read- 
ing that little verse. “ Surely here is the proof 
I need. When a thing is demonstrated before 
our eyes — whether it be a problem in arith- 
metic or an assertion in the Bible — we must be- 
lieve it. Can there be a better, surer, or more 
rigid test of the Bible, than to judge it by the 
infiuence it exerts on the minds and lives of 
those who accept it as true, and try faithfully 
to obey its commands. I cannot think of a 
truer or sterner test, and it seems to me that 
in these words of Christ we are authorized to 
test it in this way — by its fruits. 

Now, let me think,” and closing her book, 
she went on talking in a dreamy monotone, 
“ ‘ by its fruits’ must mean by the lives of those 
who believe in it. Now I know a great many 
people ; who among them are fruit bearers, prov- 
ing, in their daily lives, this Bible true. It is 
strange,” she said, in a dissatisfied voice, after 
a moment’s silence ; I must know some good 
people, but it seems very hard now to remem- 
ber any who really could be called Bible proofs. 
Why is it, I wonder ? ” 

As if the shimmering waves could answer 


A THOUGHT THAT HELPED, 


109 


her question she looked dreamily off on them 
for a few seconds ; then, with a sad smile, she 
said : ‘‘ It must be that I never have met any 
real Christians. I have lived for this world, and 
my friends have all been worldly. They can- 
not satisfy me now. I do not believe they sat- 
isfy themselves. But there is Job ” 

Mrs. Gordon paused a moment, and then she 
said, thoughtfully, ‘‘Yes, I am sure that Job is 
a good man. But ” — and now her voice was 
critical and discontented — “ he is very ignorant : 
he does not seem to have used his intellect at 
all : he has merely given a child’s credence to 
the things that he has been taught are true. I 
like him — I have confidence in his sincerity, 
but he cannot help me here. In this vital ques- 
tion I dare not let myself be infiuenced by the 
blind faith of an unreasoning mind.” She 
stopped and drew a long breath. 

“ I am afraid it is useless for me to think 
about this matter any longer,” she began again, 
as she took up her Bible and looked at it, as if 
it could understand her meaning. “ I am afraid 
the people I know are none of them good 
enough to prove you true. But — stop” — and 
now her voice softened and her face grew 
bright — “ there is Allan ; how could I forget 
him, my true, noble, great-hearted brother? 
Is not he a Bible proof ? Let me see — let me 


110 


OJSf LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


review his life. He wasn’t brought up to be- 
lieve in the Bible. His early life was just like 
mine. Our mother died when we were very 
young, and we were left chiefly to the care of 
tutors and governesses. Our father was a 
scholar, but not a Christian. There were thou- 
sands of books in his library, but I do not re- 
member ever seeing a Bible there. We had no 
sacred book in our home, and no sacred day in 
our week. We drove and entertained on the 
Sabbath just as we did on the other days. 
Allan was gay and fond of society, he was 
bright, and kind, and lovable, but I am sure 
that when he flrst grew up he cared no more 
for religion than I cared ; he did not regard 
the Sabbath, he had no higher standard of right 
than I had. And my standard ” — and she sighed 
softly — ^‘has always been a selflsh one — the 
thing I have wanted to do — that has always 
been my standard of right. Well, in those 
early days, with such a standard, Allan never 
could have been called a Bible proof. What 
he is to-day is the result of a great change in 
his life. What wrought that change ? ” Mrs. 
Gordon hesitated — the light in her eyes deep- 
ened, the curve of her mouth grew sweet and 
humble. 

I never realized before, perhaps it is more 
truthful to own that I never before would ac- 


A THOUGHT THAT HELPED. 


Ill 


knowledge the cause of the great change in 
Allan’s life,” she said, slowly. “It is strange, 
when we do not want to see, how blind we can 
be to facts that are as evident and undeniable 
as the roar of that ocean is to my ears to-day. 
I did not want Allan to be a Christian. I 
laughed when he brought me a Bible and 
begged me to read it. Yet all the while I knew 
that my brother was changed for the better. 
I knew that his life was nobler, his aims higher, 
his character purer, sweeter, and at the same 
time stronger ; and I knew, too, that the one 
book that he now prized above all others was 
his Bible. Year after year, in spite of ridicule 
and opposition — and he has had to endure both 
— he has gone on reading, studying, and obeying 
his Bible, and year after year he has continued 
to grow in all things that are manly, true, and 
noble. I can doubt no longer. My brother 
has been building on a rock, and that rock is 
the truth he has found in his Bible. When we 
know the influences that have moulded a char- 
acter, why need we care for the theories of 
critics ? I want no better proof — I can have 
no better proof of this Bible’s truth, than the 
contrast between the Allan who did not read 
this Bible, and the Allan who to-day does read 
it, and obey it.” A few tears fell as she made 
that humble confession, and then, in a tremu- 


112 


OJSl LONGMAN'S ISLAND. 


lous voice, she said : Now that I am convinced 
that this Bible is true, what shall I do ? ” 

It was long before Mrs. Gordon spoke again. 
A clear perception of the truth had come to 
her, but with it had come also a fearful temp- 
tation. 

The ridicule of the gay world in which she 
had always been a brilliant, flattered, and 
courted leader — the opposition, and deep dis- 
pleasure of her husband — the separation, that 
opposite beliefs, on the most vital questions, 
must make in their life, that had been hitherto 
almost perfect in its harmony — if she accepted 
the Bible, and sought to govern her life by its 
precepts, she knew but too well that all this 
would follow. 

On the one side stood all she had hitherto 
held most precious ; on the other side only the 
Bible with its truths but dimly understood — 
could she sacrifice the one for the other? 

F or many minutes that conflict lasted. After 
a while she again opened her Bible, and read 
aloud its first four wonderful words. 

“ In the beginning God — ” 

A smile broke through her tears. “ I see,’’ 
she said, reverentl}^. ‘‘ It was God, first, in the 
beginning of Creation. It must be God, first, 
in the beginning of every Christian life. And 
God is love. Upheld by such a God I cannot 


A THOUGHT THAT HELPED. 113 

fall, strengthened by such a God I can be brave. 
My choice is made. A new life lies before me. 
1 confess, in its beginning, God.” 

With a calm and even happy face half an 
hour later Mrs. Gordon walked back to the 
cottage. On the doorstep she met her husband. 
He looked at her with approving eyes. 

How bright you look, little wife ? ” he said, 
fondly. “ What have you been doing down on 
the beach ? ” 

It was not easy to answer that question, but 
she knew that the truth must be confessed, and 
with the inspiring thought, if God is love he 
will not fail me now, Katharine Gordon looked 
frankly at her husband, and said : I have been 
reading the Bible, Eoderick, and I have found 
—God.” 

8 


CHAPTER VIL 


SENDING A TELEGRAM. 

♦ “We, ignorant of ourselves, 

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 
Deny us for our good. So we find profit 
By losing of our prayers.” 

Shakespeare. 

TT was near sfinset the next day when Mr. 

Gordon, after a short walk along the 
beach, walked wearily back to the cottage. 
Mrs. Gordon stood in the open door watching 
for him. 

“ Roderick,’’ she said, quickly, I thought 
you never would come. See ” — and she held 
up an envelope — ‘‘ there is a letter from Allan. 
You must telegraph him at once.” 

“ Why ? ” Mr. Gordon asked. 

‘‘ Because he writes that he intends to join 
us at Greenfields — he thinks we are still there, 
you know — and he must not come, Roderick. 
We must change his plan. He must not come 
near us.” 

Mr. Gordon looked thoughtful. “ I wish 
he could come,” he said, with a sigh. “ His 
114 


SENDING A TELEGBAM. 


115 


presence would be a great comfort ; but I sup- 
pose you are right ; he must not come, if we 
can prevent him. But you know, Katharine, to 
telegraph him of our trouble will be the surest 
way to bring him here.” 

‘^Yes, I know that,” Mrs. Gordon replied, 
“ but we must throw him off our track, Rod- 
erick. Listen, I think this telegram will stop 
him.” And opening a slip of paper in her 
hand, she read : 

“ Don’t come. We are in a transition state, 
movements uncertain. Wait for letters.” 

Mr. Gordon nodded approvingly. ‘^That 
will do,” he said. “ I’ll send it over to the 
oflEice immediately.” 

Ten minutes later David Power entered the 
neat kitchen where Bethia and her mother 
were preparing supper. 

“ Beth,” he said, here is a telegram that 
must go to Greenfields at once, Mr. Gordon 
says. It is to stop some of his folks from com- 
ing here. Job is out on the bay, and I can’t 
leave, for it is ’most time to light the lamp. 
You’ll have to take it. Come along, and I’ll 
push the Sea Gull off for you.” 

Bethia dropped the little sugar sifter, with 
which she was sprinkling berries, and held out 
her hand for the telegram. It was in a sealed 
envelope. 


116 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

“ I suppose I don’t need to know what is in 
it ? ” she said, inquiringly. 

^‘Why, no, of course not,” her father an- 
swered. The operator will read it. You’ve 
nothing to do with it, except to carry it.” 

“Well, I guess I’m capable of doing that,” 
Bethia said, confidently. 

An hour later, in the soft, beautiful twilight, 
Bethia entered the little telegraph office in 
Greenfields. 

“ Please send immediately,” she said, as she 
gave the message to the operator. 

He opened it. Bethia waited a minute, and 
then, thinking her duty performed, turned to 
go. 

“ Stop, please,” the operator said, in a per- 
plexed voice. “I don’t understand this mes- 
sage. It’s blurred, and here are two words I 
can’t read at all. Do you know what they 
are?” 

Bethia took the paper, and looked at it with 
eyes as doubtful as the operator’s. 

“I know why this telegram is sent,” she 
said, after a vain effort to read the indistinct 
words, “and I think I know what those two 
words are, though I can’t read them.” 

“Well, what do you think they are?” the 
operator asked, impatiently. 

Bethia looked again at the paper. “ Don’t 


SENDING A TELEGRAM, 117 

come,” she read : “ we are in trouble. Small- 
pox, movements uncertain. Wait for letters.” 
“There,” she said, “that is why they don’t 
want him to come, and so I think that must be 
what they meant to say.” 

The operator took the message from Bethia, 
and looked at it with sharp, critical eyes. “ It 
would be a pretty bad job for me if that wasn’t 
what they meant,” he said. “ I’m here to send 
telegrams, not to guess at their meanings.” 

“But I don’t think there is any question 
about the meaning of this one,” Bethia said, 
“ I could go back home and ask them, 
though.” 

“ How soon would you be back ? It’s after 
seven now.” 

“ I’d be back as soon as possible, but I sup- 
pose to go and return would take at least two 
hours.” 

“Too late. It couldn’t go to-night,” the 
operator said decidedly, with a keen recollec- 
tion of a moonlight ride he had in prospect. 
“ This office closes at half-past eight.” 

“ And they wanted it to go at once,” Bethia 
said, anxiously. 

Once more the young operator studied the 
message. “ There’s a T that begins one of the 
words, and so that may be trouble, and there’s 
an S that seems to begin another word, and of 


118 ON L ON EM AN ' S ISLAND. 

course it’s reasonable to suppose that’s smallpox. 
I guess you are right ; and if you say so — you 
must take the responsibility, you know — I’ll 
send it as you read it.” 

Bethia hesitated. “ I’d be sorry if it wasn’t 
right,” she said, in a reflective voice, but it 
ought to go, for he must not come, and I don’t 
see how I can be mistaken, for they are in 
trouble, and they have got smallpox. Yes,” 
she concluded in a firmer tone, you may send 
it. I am sure we’d better guess at those 
words than have the message wait until to- 
morrow.” 

“ All right, but remember you’ve done the 
guessing,” the operator answered. “ Stop,” he 
ordered for the second time, “ whoever wrote 
this message must have been pretty absent- 
minded, for there’s no address — I mean the 
sender’s address, you know,” he explained. 

‘‘ Oh, there’s no trouble about that,” Bethia 
said with assurance ; and happily ignorant that 
she was revealing what Mrs. Gordon was most 
anxious to conceal, she said : ‘‘ The address is 
Loneman’s Island, Greenfields, P. O. That’s 
all.” 

“ All right. Here it goes,” the operator 
answered cheerfully ; and in another minute 
the mysterious little electrical instrument was 
at work, and the telegram, that, in its changed 


SENDING A TELEGRAM, 


119 


wording, Mrs. Gordon would have suffered 
torture rather than send, was on its way to 
Allan Douglas. 

Two more days passed slowly and sadly by 
for the exiles on Loneman’s Island. Donald 
did not improve, on the contrary, he grew 
steadily worse ; and his parents watched him 
with fears and forebodings they dared not con- 
fess even to each other. Job and David Power 
continued their kind ministrations, and Bethia 
and her mother, unable to show their sym- 
pathy in any other way, took unwearied pains 
in preparing the dainty meals, that three times 
a day Job carried into the dining room of his 
house, and spread out temptingly on the table. 
It was all of little avail. Often the dainty 
meals were removed in as perfect order as they 
were brought. There was no appetite to enjoy 
them. Mrs. Gordon grew pale and thin ; and, 
as he watched her, Mr. Gordon’s careworn face 
grew graver and sterner. 

It was the morning of the third day. Bethia 
was up early, and while the sky was still pink 
with the sunrise, she unmoored her little Sea 
GuU and went skimming across the bay to 
Greenfields. Her errands took her to the 
grocery store ; and from there, with her hands 
full of brown paper packages, she walked 
leisurely down the main street. She was pass- 


120 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

ing the telegraph office, when a loud voice 
called, ‘‘Hello!” 

Turning quickly, Bethia faced the operator. 
He was standing in the door, and waving one 
of his ominous yellow envelopes. 

“ What is it ? ” the girl demanded. 

“ Well, I guess it’s something those folks on 
the island won’t like much,” the operator an- 
swered. “ This message came the last thing 
last night. I couldn’t get anyone to go over 
with it — everybody’s so afraid — so I had to 
Avait. I thought I’d give it to the doctor this 
morning. I’m glad you’ve come. I want to 
see you about it.” 

“Well, Avhy?” Bethia asked. “Who is it 
from ? ” 

“ Why, it is from that Mr. Douglas we sent 
the telegram to the other day. You remem- 
ber, don’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, of course,” Bethia said, shortly. 

“ Well, you didn’t make any mistake about 
that message, did you ? ” 

Bethia’s bright face grew troubled. “I 
don’t know,” she said, Avith some hesitation. 
“ You knoAv, I can’t see Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, 
and I’ve never thought to ask father; but I 
think — I feel pretty sure — that I guessed right.” 

“Well, if you didn’t, you must bear the 
blame,” the operator said, harshly. 


SENDING A TELEGRAM, 


121 


‘‘ What makes you think I didn’t ? ” Bethia 
asked, anxiously. 

‘‘ Why, this message. I haven’t any right to 
tell what’s in it, but, as you are interested, I 
guess I’ll venture this once to break the rule. 
It is from that Mr. Douglas you said must not 
come, and he is coming, for this telegram says, 
“ Be of good courage. Will come at once.” 

“ Oh, dear,” Bethia exclaimed, “ he mustn’t 
come. What shall I do ? I wonder if I hadn’t 
better send him another telegram.” 

The young operator looked at her with a 
quizzical smile. Well,” he said, “seeing that 
your telegrams don’t seem very successful, I 
don’t think — if I were you — I’d venture to send 
another. You’d better go home and consult 
with your folks. You know,” he added, con- 
solingly, “ even if he comes to Greenfields, his 
friends can stop his going over to the island. 
At least I suppose they can. Most men don’t 
want to run into danger ; but this man, judging 
from his telegram, has courage enough to go 
anywhere.” 

Bethia lingered a moment. “ If I only knew 
what to do,” she said, regretfully, “ I’d do it, 
no matter what it was. But ” — and she looked 
helplessly at the young man — “I suppose you 
are right, there is nothing I can do.” 

“Except to take this,” and giving her the 


122 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


message, the operator said, “ Good-morning,’^ 
and stepped into his office. 

With an anxious heart, Bethia walked down 
to her boat. The fact that Mr. Douglas was 
coming to the island troubled her ; but the fear 
that her rendering of the message had been the 
means of bringing him troubled her still more. 
There seemed now but one way to prevent his 
coming, and that was to warn his friends as 
soon as possible. She had made a serious mis- 
take in the telegram, she felt sure of thatj 
but if Mr. Douglas could be kept from the 
island, no harm would result from her presump- 
tuous interference. Cheered by that belief, she 
hurried down to the dock where her little boat 
was anchored. It was still early, only seven, 
as the loud strokes of the town clock at that 
instant announced, but already some one was 
waiting on the dock. A gentleman with a 
valise and an umbrella. Bethia grasped those 
details at one glance, and with a sinking heart 
she guessed the stranger’s name and intentions. 
She looked longingly at the Sea Gull, swaying 
so idly in the rippling water. If only she were 
in it and away from the dock. She was fully 
determined as to her course ; she never would 
consent to carry that man over to the island — 
never. Grasping her numerous packages more 
closely in her arms, she was hurrying past the 


SENDING A TELEGRAM. 123 

stranger, when the skirt of her dress caught on 
a long piece of a blackberry vine that some one 
had carelessly thrown on the dock. As she 
felt herself entangled in the brier, Bethia in- 
voluntarily lifted her hand, and down fell one 
of her brown paper parcels. With an im- 
patient exclamation she stooped to pick it up, 
and then a paper bag, full of lemons, fell from 
her arms, and, breaking as it fell, the golden 
fruit rolled riotously over the dock. 

‘^Oh, dear,” Bethia said in despair, ‘^what 
shall I do ? ” 

“ Let me help you,” the stranger said, kindly, 
and in a few moments his quick hands had 
collected the lemons, and replaced them in the 
bag. 

“ Are you going in that boat ? ” he asked, as 
he dropped the last lemon into the bag. 

“Yes,” Bethia said, while she made a vain 
attempt to grasp the bag. 

The young man held it fast. “ Pardon me,” 
he said, “ but are you from Loneman’s Island ? 
Are you the Captain’s daughter ? ” 

“ Yes,” Bethia said, unwillingly. 

“ I thought so.” The young man’s voice and 
face were both very grave. “ I am Mrs. Gor- 
don’s brother. I reached Greenfields an hour 
ago on the early train from Ne w Y ork. When I 
asked for a boat to take me to the island, I was 


124 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

told that the doctor would go over this after- 
noon, and I must wait until then. No one was 
willing to set me across, but some one at the 
hotel had seen you pass, and thought I might 
meet you here. Now, will you kindly give me 
a passage ? I would not trouble you, but I am 
very anxious to see my sister, I must get to her 
as soon as possible.’’ 

Bethia had listened in trembling silence, but 
now she exclaimed, That is just what they 
don’t want you to do. They don’t want you 
to come.” 

“ I understand,” Mr. Douglas said, calmly, 
know in what sense they don’t want me. 
It makes no difference. They need me, and I 
must go.” 

Bethia made a determined effort to push by 
him. “ They don’t want you,” she repeated — 
and ” — she hesitated, looked up and met his 
resolute eyes, and said, desperately, “ I won’t 
take you.” 

Mr. Douglas stooped and took up his valise ; 
then with a quiet but decided manner he an- 
ticipated Bethia’s nervous movements, and 
stepped down into the boat before her. Then 
he looked up at her and smiled. “ Let me take 
some of those troublesome packages,” he said, 
and the next moment Bethia’s overfull hands 
were free, and she herself was gently helped 


SENDING A TELEGRAM. 


125 


into the boat. She felt very helpless, but she 
was still firm in her determination not to take 
him across the bay. Without a word she sat 
down in the boat and folded her arms. 

Mr. Douglas looked at her, and then quietly 
reached for the oars. 

Bethia grasped them firmly. “ I am not go- 
ing to take you across,” she said, excitedly. 
“ They don’t want you ; only two days ago 
they sent you a telegram not to come.” 

Mr. Douglas smiled a little. “ They told me 
not to come, that is true ; but they also told me 
they were in trouble. What kind of a brother 
would you think me, if I could know that 
my sister was in trouble and not go to her, 
because of any danger that might result to 
myself?” 

But they didn’t say they were in trouble,” 
Bethia protested. “ I sent that telegram.” 

“You?” 

“ Yes. That is, I changed it. I carried it to 
the office. Two of the words were blurred, the 
operator could not read them. I guessed they 
were trouble and smallpox. But if trouble 
would only make you come to them, I don’t 
believe they wrote trouble. I know they don’t 
want you. I wish you would go back to Green- 
fields, and wait while I go home and tell them 
you’ve come.” 


126 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

“ And suppose they should send me word to 
go away ? ” 

“Why then — ^you’d go, of course,” Bethia 
said, in a tone more doubtful than her words. 

“ Never,” and now Mr. Douglas unhooked 
the chain that held the little boat to the dock 
and pushed it off. Then he took the oars, 
that Bethia in her excitement had dropped. 
“ I know how to manage a boat,” he said, “ and 
now I will absolve you from all responsibility 
in this matter. I will set myself across the 
bay. And as for the changed telegram — if you 
really did change it, as you think — you must 
believe that I am very glad of your mistake. 
I count it a great privilege to be able to be with 
my sister now.” 

“ But suppose,” and Bethia’s voice was low 
and tremulous with fear — “ suppose you should 
take the disease.” 

The Sea Gull was speeding rapidly across 
the bay. The beautiful morning sunlight was 
all around them. Mr. Douglas glanced up at 
the tender blue of the sky above his head, 
and then looked down at Bethia’s troubled 
face. 

“ Do you think a child, in the presence of a 
father, who will, he knows, protect and save 
him from all harm, is ever afraid ? ” he asked. 

“ No,” Bethia answered, with a little note of 


SENDING A TELEGRAM. 


127 


courage in her tone, “ I know I am never afraid 
with my father.” 

A light more beautiful than a smile illumi- 
nated Mr. Douglas’ face for a moment. “ That 
is my answer to your question,” he said gently. 
“ I am not afraid of the disease, for I know that 
I am in my Father’s presence.” 

With puzzled eyes Bethia looked down into 
the water. Mr. Douglas’ words meant more 
than she could understand, and they awakened 
many strange thoughts in her young mind. 
She did not speak again, and in a short time 
the Sea Gull touched the dock at Loneman’s 
Island. 


CHAPTEE YIII. 


IN NO DANGER. 


‘‘ Only in one thought I find a joy I never miss ; 

In faith to know all grief below will grow to final 


bliss. 


And he who holds this faith, will strive with firm and 
I ardent soul, 

And work out his own proper good, in working for the 


whole. 


God only sees this perfect good, the way to it is dim, 
God only, then, is truly blest ; man truly blest in 


him.” 


Ruchert, 


ITH the quick, firm step of a man who 



has a purpose to accomplish, and does 
not mean to be baffled, Mr. Douglas sprang 
from the boat when it touched the island, and 
— following Bethia’s unwilling direction — 
walked up to Job’s cottage. He carried his 
valise in his hand, and as the girl watched him, 
there came into her mind a sudden recollection 
of an old history lesson that had deeply im- 
pressed her young imagination. 


128 


IN NO DANGER, 


129 


“ He is burning all his ships behind him,” 
she thought, regretfully. He doesn’t mean 
to give his sister a chance to refuse to see him. 
He is going right in.” 

That “ going right in ” meant much that was 
fearful to the young girl. To the man what it 
meant no one who looked at him could have 
told. He was young and handsome. Wealth, 
education, and travel evidently had done much 
for him, but there was an indescribable some- 
thing — perhaps it might be called an atmosphere 
— about him, that was not due either to wealth, 
education, or travel. It was something that 
had impressed Bethia in the boat, it was some- 
thing that filled and brightened his face now as 
he stepped on to Job’s doorstep. 

The door stood open : the house was very 
quiet, and no one was in siglit. Placing his 
valise in the hall, Mr. Douglas stood a mo- 
ment in the doorway and looked off at the 
ocean. 

In a glory of color and spray, it tossed and 
shimmered in the brilliant morning light. 
With eyes that seemed to see wonderful mean- 
ings in its breaking waves, the young man 
watched it for a few moments. Suddenly his 
grave face grew bright with the light of some 
precious thought. He raised his hat and whis- 
pered reverently, “ The Lord God omnipotent 
9 


130 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

reigneth/’ Then with a calm, untroubled man- 
ner he turned and stepped into the hall. 

Donald’s door Avas ajar. Pausing a second 
his keen ear caught the child’s impatient cry for 
Avater and Avith a firm hand he pushed open 
the door and entered the room. 

Job Avas sitting by the cot, gently fanning 
the little sufferer. As Mr. Douglas appeared 
he sprang up and came quickly to meet him. 

“ Go back,” he said, in a stern voice. You 
must not come in here. You are runnin’ a 
great risk.” 

I am not afraid.” The words were quietly 
spoken, there was nothing boastful in the tone, 
but there was in it a note of sure, almost joy- 
ous, confidence. It surprised and touched 
Job. He stood still and looked in wonder at 
the stranger. 

“ I don’t know who you be,” he said, solemnly, 
in a moment, but if you ain’t come on the 
Lord’s business, I tell you you had better go 
out.” 

Mr. Douglas smiled, and coming close to Job 
extended his hand, “ I have come on the Lord’s 
business, my friend,” he said, and I tell you 
the truth, when I say, I am not afraid. Where 
is my sister ? ” 

“ Mrs. Gordon,” Job exclaimed, in a relieved 
voice, “is she your sister? Well, now, I am 


IN NO DANGER. 


131 


glad to see you. I ain’t sure though that she’ll 
be. I know she didn’t want you to come, 
an’ she sent a telegram to keep you away,” 
and Job looked doubtfully at Mr. Douglas, with 
his face full of questions. 

“ Yes, I received the telegram,” Mr. Douglas 
answered. 

‘‘And you know ” Job paused and 

glanced towards the cot. 

“Yes, I know everything. I know I am 
needed here.” 

“Well, if you know that, you know the 
truth,” Job said, gravely. “If you’ve got any 
strength to spare, or help to give, you’re needed 
here more than anywhere else in this world. 
That’s sure.” 

“ Then I am glad indeed that I am here,” 
Mr. Douglas replied, and his tone and smile 
dispelled the last of Job’s doubts. “Where is 
Mrs. Gordon? and how is Donald?” 

Job hesitated. “Well, Donald — he is — he’s 
kind of drifting like,” he said, in a moment. 
“ The tide may bring him in to the shore, and 
then again it may carry him out to sea. It’s 
all uncertain which way it will go. — You see ? ” 
And, a little doubtful of being understood, Job 
looked inquiringly at Mr. Douglas. 

“ Yes, I see,” Mr. Douglas said, quietly ; and 
then he asked again, “ Where is my sister ? ” 


132 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


“ She’s upstairs. She’s most worn out,” 
Job answered, in a tone full of sympathy. 

Where is Mr. Gordon ? ” 

“ He’s gone down to the surf for a breath of 
fresh air. He ain’t much better than she is. 
They are dreadfully to be pitied, I think,” 
and the pity in Job’s honest heart dimmed his 
eyes as he spoke. 

“ Are you the nurse ? ” 

‘‘ Ho, they ain’t got no nurse. Couldn’t get 
one from Greenfields for all the money that’s 
been sunk in the ocean. I help Cap’n Power 
keep the lighthouse, an’, of course, me an’ 
the Cap’n try to give ’em all the help we 
can.” 

‘‘You are very kind,” Mr. Douglas said, in 
a grateful voice. 

“I ain’t sure about that,” Job said, calmly. 
“ I’m glad to do it — sense it’s got to be done 
by somebody. I always do like to take hard 
jobs, they kinder make me feel of more use in 
the world. But in this case, why I somehow 
feel as if I was payin’ a debt. You see ” — and 
Job rubbed his hand over his scarred face — 
“the Lord brought me through this trouble 
when I was in the army. I’ve wondered some- 
times why I had to have it, but now I sort 
of reckon it was so I might be able to give jest 
this help. ’Most everything we learn and have 


IN NO DANGEB. 


133 


comes of use in this world, I calculate, if only — 
and I must allow that’s a pretty big if— we 
are willing to use it.” 

During this short conversation Job and Mr. 
Douglas had slowly approached Donald’s cot. 
Now they stood together beside it. The child 
was not asleep, but his dark eyes met his 
uncle’s with no gleam of recognition. He lay 
in an uneasy position, and his pillow was tum- 
bled and evidently uncomfortable. With a 
gentle hand Mr. Douglas raised the weak little 
fellow, beat up, and turned his pillow, and then 
laid him tenderly back on it. Job looked on 
with amazed eyes, “ I say,” he ejaculated, be 
you a doctor ? ” 

‘‘ No,” Mr. Douglas answered. 

“ An’ you ain’t had this ? ” 

‘‘ No.” The voice was quiet and fearless. 

Well you do beat” — Job paused, he could 
think of nothing great enough to express his 
sense of Mr. Douglas’ courage — most folks,” 
he concluded, in a moment, with decision. 

Mr. Douglas did not answer ; he was watch- 
ing Donald, and Job with curious eyes watched 
him. “ I guess you’d better set down,” he said, 
in a moment, as he drew the willow rocker up 
to the cot. ‘‘ Mrs. Gordon will be down pretty 
soon now, I expect. Do you want me to call 
her?” 


134 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 

‘‘ No, by no means. Let her rest as long as 
she can,” Mr. Douglas answered promptly. 

Job nodded approvingly. “ It’s a pretty 
hard matter to make her rest,” he said, soberly. 
“ You see, it ain’t very easy to keep the body 
quiet when the mind’s as uneasy as hers is.” 

A shadow flitted over Mr. Douglas’ face, but 
he did not speak. He looked at J ob and seemed 
to wait for his next sentence. 

You know,” Job proceeded, thoughtfully, 
“ it’s more even than the boy’s sickness that 
ails her now. She’s afraid of it, terribly afraid 
of it, for Mr. Gordon. I don’t b’lieve she 
thinks much about it for herself. She’s worry- 
ing night an’ day over the maybe’s as well as 
the must be’s. The must be’s are bad enough, 
most always ; but when you heap the maybe’s 
on top of them, you make a pretty heavy load 
for one poor heart to carry, I think, don’t you ? ” 

^^Yes,’’ Mr. Douglas sighed, rather than 
spoke. 

‘^1 think you ought to know this,” Job went 
slowly on, “ ’cause you seem to me different 
some way from most folks, an’ if you’ve got a 
secret that can keep folks from being afraid in 
such times as these, why, I hope you will jest 
make that secret known. It’s needed pretty 
bad in this house, I can tell you.” 

Mr. Douglas brushed away a fly that was 


IN NO DANGER, 


135 


buzzing about Donald’s head, and then he 
looked at Job. His smile was touched with 
many thoughts, but he only said, ‘‘ My secret 
is a very simple one, my friend, I fear no evil 
because I believe in God.” 

Job stared. So do other foll^ believe,” he 
returned but — they fear too.” 

“ There is a difference,” Mr. Douglas began, 
but just then a light foot was heard running 
down the stairs. 

“There’s Mrs. Gordon,” Job remarked; and 
the next moment Mr. Douglas was in the hall, 

“ Allan,” Mrs. Gordon cried, in a voice as 
glad as it was surprised. “ O Allan, you don’t 
know — I cannot tell you — how glad I am to 
see you. Oh, I forgot,” she exclaimed the next 
instant, before her brother could speak, “ I for- 
got how dangerous it is for you. O Allan, 
why did you come ? you ought not to be here, 
you must go away this minute, you are running 
a fearful risk.” 

“ You are mistaken,” Mr. Douglas said gently. 

“Ho; I wish I were,” Mrs. Gordon an- 
swered, in a sad voice. “ Come, in here,” she 
continued, and with a nervous hand she pulled, 
rather than led, him into the dining room. 

The morning meal, nicely prepared but un- 
touched, was waiting on the table. Mr. Dou- 
glas glanced at it. 


136 ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 

“ Katharine,” he said, cheerfully, you have 
not had your breakfast.” 

“ I don’t want any,” she said, quickly. 
“ Allan, why did you come here when I sent 
you word to stay away ? ” 

“ Because I love you,” Mr. Douglas said, 
tenderly. have come to stay with you, 

Katharine, you need my help.” 

You only add to my trouble,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, tearfully. O Allan, think of the danger 
you are in. If you love me, go at once.” 

Mr. Douglas did not answer at once. With 
gentle hands he placed her in a chair, and then 
he went to the table and poured out a cup of 
coffee. “ Do you take one or two lumps of 
sugar, Katharine,” he asked, composedly. 

“ Sugar,” Mrs. Gordon said, wildly, “ Allan, 
I don’t know ” 

“ Don’t you ? ” her brother interrupted, “ then 
I’ll give you two at a venture, Katharine.” 
And Avith a smile he carried the cup to his 
sister. 

“ You must drink it,” he said, with tender 
imperativeness, as she motioned it away. 

Drink it, Katharine, and then I’ll talk to 
you.” 

‘‘ I cannot,” she murmured ; but the cup was 
placed to her lips, and with loving force she 
was made to drink it. 


IN JSfO DANGER. 


137 


‘‘Now, please go,” she entreated, as her 
brother brought a chair close to her side. 

“ It is too late, Katharine,” he said, answer- 
ing the thought that he knew was in her mind, 
— “ I have seen Donald. I have had him in my 
arms. I am here to stay.” 

“ Not when I beg you to leave me ? ” Mrs. 
Gordon urged. 

“ Yes, even then,” Mr. Douglas said, firmly. 
“ I have come to help you, Katharine, and I 
intend to do so.” 

Mrs. Gordon looked at him tearfully for a 
moment, and then she rested her weary head 
on his shoulder, and drew a long breath of 
relief. “ O Allan,” she murmured, “ it is a 
comfort to see you. I do hope it isn’t wrong 
to be glad to have you stay.” 

“ You may as well be glad about it as sorry,” 
Mr. Douglas replied, “ for your feeling either 
way will not change my purpose. If I am not 
afraid to stay, my dear Katharine, why should 
you be afraid to have me ? ” 

“How can I help realizing your danger ?” 
Mrs. Gordon asked, sadly. 

“ Only in one way,” he answered, tenderly. 
“ By trying to realize, instead, how safe God’s 
children are when they walk in his ways and 
do his will.” 

Mrs. Gordon raised her head and looked 


138 


OJSr LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


soberly at her brother. “ Are you sure you 
are doing God’s will now ? ” she asked, in a 
doubtful voice. ‘‘ The danger is great, Allan — 
it is useless to try to deny that — are you sure 
it is right for you to come into it ? ” 

“ Yes,” he answered, in a voice as calm as it 
was positive. “ You need me, Katharine — that 
is a fact that you cannot deny — do you think it 
would be right for me to think selfishly of my 
own safety and leave you to suffer alone? 
Would you treat me so ? ” 

“ I hope not — but I — don’t know,” she said, 
in a broken voice. But the next instant with 
fresh tears she cried : “ I don’t mean that, Allan. 
I know my love would draw me to you, 
even ” 

“ Even while your fears held you back,” 
Mr. Douglas said, gentlj^- finishing her sad con- 
fession for her. understand, dear Katharine. 
It is natural to feel as you do, but ” — in a low 
sweet tone — “ it is not — Ohristlike.” 

Mrs. Gordon brushed away her tears that 
she might more clearly see her brother’s face. 
“ What would be Ohristlike, Allan ? ” she asked, 
with trembling lips. 

A beautiful light illumined Mr. Douglas’ face. 
“ To realize, as Christ did, the presence of the 
Father, and to know, as he knew, that in the 
shelter of that Father’s love no evil can befall 


IN NO DANGER. 139 

US,” he answered, in a reverent and tender 
voice. 

Mrs. Gordon was silent for a few moments, 
and then she said : “ I have been reading the 
Bible lately, Allan.” 

You have been reading the Bible,” Mr. 
Douglas repeated, in a glad voice. Katharine, 
that is indeed good news.” 

Mrs. Gordon sighed. “ I believe it — that is, 
all of it that I can understand — but I don’t 
know as my reading has done me much good,” 
she said, wearily. 

It will,” he replied, with confidence. The 
light is always dim when the morning first 
begins to dawn, Katharine, but” — and there 
was a ring of true joy in his voice — ‘Hhe morn- 
ing is sure to grow into the perfect day.” 

‘‘I hope you will prove a true prophet,” 
she said, wfith a faint smile ; and then she asked, 
abruptly, how did you get here, Allan ? ” 

“A young girl brought me across from 
Greenfields.” 

That must have been Bethia, Captain 
Power’s daughter,” Mrs. Gordon said, in sur- 
prise. “ How did she come to bring you over ? ” 
^^From necessity, I think,” Mr. Douglas 
said, smilingly. “ I was a most unwelcome 
passenger. She brought me simply because I 
would be brought.” 


140 ON LON EM AN '8 ISLAND. 

I know your way, Allan,” his sister said, 
playfully ; but then she drew along breath, and 
added, soberly ; “ I am not surprised that Beth 
objected to bringing you over.” 

Mr. Douglas smiled. I can assure you that 
she did her duty faithfully in that respect,” he 
said. “ It was fortunate that I knew how to 
manage the boat ; had I been ignorant of that 
art, it is probable that I would be drifting on 
the bay now.” 

“ I almost wish that you were,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, desperately. 

Mr. Douglas arose from his chair, and stand- 
ing before his sister, looked down into her 
anxious face with eyes as untroubled as they 
were kind. 

My dear Katharine,” he said, “ you must 
dismiss all your fears for my safety. I am here, 
and I am thankful to be here. I tell you truly 
that I feel safe and fear no danger. When we 
know that we are guided and guarded by a 
love that is omnipotent, have we any cause to 
fear evil ? ” 

Ko,” she acknowledged, softly. 

A beautiful smile brightened her brother’s 
grave face. 

^‘You must rest in that faith,” he said, 
tenderly, and then in a lighter tone he added, 
now, my dear, let us go and find Koderick.” 


CHAPTEE IX. 


MISS BRISK APPEARS. 

I never did repent for doing good 
Nor shall not now,” 

Shakespeare, 

“ WELL, I never!” 

Miss Betty Brisk had been reading a 
letter. Now, Avith that emphatic exclamation 
— the safety valve she always used to relieve 
her mind when unusually excited — she started 
up and began to move rapidly about the room, 
collecting A^arious small articles of her personal 
property. Her companion, a sober-faced 
woman of about fifty, looked at her with eyes 
expressive of both astonishment and disap- 
proval. 

“ Good land of love, Betty, what is the matter, 
and what are you doing?” she asked, after 
waiting a minute for the explanation Miss Betty 
in her haste did not stop to give voluntarily. 

“ There’s enough the matter, Jemima. The 
Gordons have got smallpox.” 

‘‘ This is the first time I ever heard of their 

141 


142 


OJSf LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


having something nobody else wanted,” Miss 
Jemima said, grimly. “Well, I’m very sorry 
for them, but I don’t understand yet why their 
having smallpox is any reason for your going 
round this room now as if you had lost your 
wits and were looking for them.” 

“ I am looking for my things — my knitting, 
and my crochet work, and my penknife, and 
thimble, and scissors, and needle-book, and 
spools of cotton,” Miss Betty explained, as one 
by one she dropped the articles named into a 
capacious workbag. “ I’m packing up — that 
is, I am going to pack, Jemima. I am going 
to the Gordons.” 

“ Hum ! ” Miss Jemima replied, in a severe 
voice. “ I supposed that was what you would 
tell me. It doesn’t seem to me that you have 
any call to go running into danger, Betty ; but 
I do believe you never are real happy except 
when you are in some uncomfortable corner 
doing disagreeable things.” 

“ Somebody has got to do the disagreeable 
things, and fill the uncomfortable corners in 
this world,” Miss Betty answered. “ There 
aren’t flowery beds of ease enough for every 
body to be carried to heaven on them. And 
then besides, Jemima, Mrs. Gordon has been 
too kind to us for me to let her suffer now, if I 
can do anything to help her.” 


MISS BRISK APPEARS. 


143 


Miss Jemima turned to the window, and 
looked soberly at the Gordons’ beautiful country 
home across the street. Yes,” she said, in a 
slow voice, as if she Avere trying to verify Miss 
Betty’s statement — “ she has given us plenty 
of sewing to do, and we’ve done it Avell, and 
she’s paid us well. And she’s given us lots of 
odds and ends — furniture she didn’t want, and 
clothes she couldn’t Avear, and groceries — when 
she’s been going away and couldn’t use them — 
and she’s always been kind. Yes, she has 
always been a real good neighbor, Betty — I 
don’t mean to deny it — but her goodness has 
never cost her any self-denial, and you don’t 
OAve her such a debt of gratitude that you need 
run into danger noAV in order to pay it.” 

I don’t believe there’ll be any danger for 
me,” Miss Betty said, emphatically. “ I am 
not a bit afraid, Jemima. I have been out 
nursing the sick for years, you knoAV, and I 
have been in diseases a good deal more to be 
dreaded than smallpox. AnyAvay, danger or 
no danger, I am going. I believe if duty ever 
called me it calls me now, and when duty says 
Go, I am not going to say, I can’t.” 

“Well, you are of age, and this is a free 
country.” This was always Miss Jemima’s 
final remark, Avhen she disapproved of her 
sister’s conduct; and now — obeying the rule 


144 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 


she usually observed when irritating things 
were said — Miss Betty did not appear to hear. 
She went on with her preparations, and for a 
few moments Miss Jemima watched her in 
silence. Then she asked: ‘^Was your letter 
from Mrs. Gordon ? ” 

‘‘ No, it was from Mr. Allan. He wrote on 
the train going to Greenfields.” 

“ So he’s run into danger, too, has he ? ” Miss 
Jemima said, sharply. ‘^Well, they do say 
that our wise men are dying off and don’t have 
any successors, and I guess they are right ; but, 
be that as it may, it’s my firm belief that this 
world will never want for its full complement 
of fools. Did Mr. Allan ask you to come ? ” 
she demanded, in a tone that implied that such 
a request would be a positive and undeniable 
proof of his folly. 

No ; by no means,’’ Miss Betty answered. 

He asked me to send him some things I would 
find in his room. I’ll run over to Mr. Gordon’s 
now and get them ; and then, if you will make 
me a cup of tea, J emima, I guess I can get off 
in time to catch the night boat down to the 
city.” 

Miss Jemima still looked displeased. 
don’t see why you should run into danger be- 
fore you’re even asked to,” she said with a frown. 

Miss Betty was just putting on her hat. 


MISS BRISK APPEARS. 


145 


She thrust in her hat pins, and tied on her veil, 
and then walked deliberately to the door. 
With her hand on the knob, she stopped and 
looked at her sister. 

Jemima,” she said, gravely, “I’ve never 
heard that the man who went down from Jeru- 
salem to Jericho, and feU among thieves, asked 
the good Samaritan to come to him, and per- 
haps he would have got well without his help, 
but just think what the good Samaritan would 
have lost if he hadn’t gone to him.” 

Miss Jemima was conscious of a curious sen- 
sation that made her think of a nail that had 
just received a final knock on its head with 
a hammer. She closed her lips firmly, made 
no farther opposition to her sister’s plans, but 
aided her as far as she could, and in another 
hour Miss Betty was on her way to Greenfields. 
It was early in the afternoon of the next day 
when she walked into the office of the Green- 
fields hotel. 

“ I want to see Mrs. Boderick Gordon,” she 
said to the clerk. 

“ Gordon ? ” The clerk looked perplexed. 
“ Oh, I recollect,” he said, in a second. “ The 
Gordons are not here, madam. You will have 
to go across the bay to Loneman’s Island if 
you must see them. They are quarantined 
there — perhaps you know ” 

lO 


146 ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 

Miss Brisk nodded. Yes, I know,” she said, 
hastily. “ How can I get to the island ? ” 

I don’t know. Boats for Loneman’s Island 
don’t run every hour these days — most folks 
are anxious to keep as far from there as pos- 
sible, — but Captain Power, or his assistant Job, 
may be going over — they have to come to 
Greenfields pretty often — and if you wait on 
the dock you may get a chance to cross with 
them.” 

Where is the dock? Will you show me 
the way?” Miss Brisk asked, and following 
the directions the clerk gave her she was soon 
on the dock. 

Job in the Sea Gull had just pushed off. 
Miss Brisk waved her umbrella and called 
loudly : Are you going to Loneman’s Island ? ” 
Job changed his course and returned to the 
dock. ^^Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I’m going 
there direct. Can I do anything for you ? ” 

“ Yes, I want to go to the island. Can you 
take me there ? 

“There’s room enough for you in the boat, 
ma’am,” Job answered, “but — you ain’t no call 
to run into danger, have you ? ” 

“Yes,” Miss Brisk said, positively, as she 
clutched her handbag and shawl strap and 
stepped, before Job could help her, into the 
boat. “ If it is danger, I’ve a call to go into 


MISS BBISK APPEARS. 


147 


it. I’ve a call to do my duty and help my 
friends.” 

Job smiled. “I like that,” he said, approv- 
ingly. “ I like to hear people put duty afore 
danger. We’ve got one of that kind over there 
already ” — and he nodded towards the island — 

I suppose you want to see the Gordons, 
ma’am,” he continued. “ You know about 
’em?” 

Yes, I know. How are they ? ” 

“Splendid,” Job said, with animation, “Don- 
ald’s cornin’ along splendid. It’s really sur- 
prisin’ to us all the turn things has took. 
’Cause there was a time you know,” and Job’s 
voice softened and trembled a little, “ when it 
looked as if that tide that’s always runnin’ 
out and never cornin’ in, was sure to take him 
out with it.” 

Miss Brisk drew a long breath. “Has it 
really been as bad as that ? ” she asked, pitifully. 

“ Yes, it has been jest as bad as that,” Job 
said, with grave assurance. “We have had a 
hard time in my house, I can tell you. You 
see his father and mother lost all heart and 
courage ; and you know when folks do that, it 
seems like givin’ an opportunity to bad things 
to grow worse. An’ it’s my belief that they 
’ most always take advantage of it.” 

“ Yes,” Miss Brisk said, “ I believe they do.” 


148 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


“Well, it was jest that way in my house. 
There didn’t seem to be any courage, nor any 
hope there, and me, and the Cap’n, and the 
doctor, too, were all about of one mind, when 
one morning Mr. Douglas walks in. Do you 
know him ? ” 

“Know Mr. Allan Douglas? Yes, of course, 
I know him. I’ve known him since he was a 
little fellow in kilts.” 

“What do you think of him?” Job’s tone 
was at once reverent and curious. 

“ Think of him ? I have never had but one 
opinion about him,” Miss Brisk said, decidedly. 
“ I do truly think that he is the best man I 
ever knew.” 

Job’s face beamed. “ I’m glad to hear you 
say that,” he said, heartily, “ because, you see, 
I agree with it. I tell you Mr. Allan’s cornin’ 
made me feel jest as if a sunbeam had left the 
sky, and come right down to Loneman’s Island 
to brighten us all up.” 

“ It was a pretty hard place for even a sun- 
beam, wasn’t it ? ” Miss Brisk asked, while 
she looked doubtful whether to cry or to 
smile. 

“ Yes, or at least I thought it was : but, per- 
haps, when a man’s heart is full of God’s sun- 
shine he isn’t conscious of hard places. I don’t 
myself believe that he is. Do you ? ” and Job 


MISS BRISK APPEARS. 149 

rested a moment on his oars, and waited for 
Miss Brisk’s answer. 

“ No, perhaps he isn’t,” she said, soberly. 
“ Well, what did Mr. Allan do ? ” 

“ Why, jest that : he brightened them up 
like a sunbeam from God,” Job said, almost 
solemnly. “ He said there was no danger, and 
nothin’ to fear for Donald, or anyone, because 
we were all God’s children, who would take 
care of us, and he acted as if he believed what 
he said, and it’s actions more than words that 
tell on people always, ain’t it 2 ” 

Miss Brisk nodded assent, and Job went 
happily on with his story. 

‘‘Well, his actions told on us all, an’ most 
of all, of course, on them. He took charge of 
Donald, and he seemed to jest drive their fears 
away. I can’t tell you — because I don’t know 
— whether it was his courage, his nursin’, 
or his prayers, or” — Job’s voice was touched 
with some deep feeling — “ his faith that nothin’ 
seemed to trouble — perhaps it was all of ’em 
combined, but anyway Donald seemed to take a 
turn for the better that very first day he came, 
an’ he’s kept growin’ better ever sense. Of 
course he’s sick yet, an’ has to be taken care of ; 
but Mr. Allan says he’s in no danger, and I 
know he isn’t. It’s a wonderful change in my 
house, and I can tell you it’s a blessed one.” 


150 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


Miss Brisk’s face glowed with pleasure. “ I 
am glad, very glad,” she said, while she brushed 
away a few tears that were bright with thanks- 
giving. ‘‘ I always feel,” she said, in a mo- 
ment, “ as if wherever Allan Douglas goes he 
carries a blessing.” 

“ I wouldn’t want to carry no better bag- 
gage than that anywhere,” Job said, earnestly. 

I suppose it’s his goodness makes him do it ; 
an’ I often think it don’t matter much what 
we have, or don’t have in this world, so long 
as we are good. I suppose you are a Christian, 
ma’am ? ” J ob’s question was plain and direct, 
but very respectful. 

“ Ye-es, I hope so. I believe so — but I never 
feel quite sure when I compare myself with 
Allan Douglas,” Miss Brisk answered, a little 
sadly. 

Something in her manner silenced Job, and 
for a few minutes Miss Brisk paid no attention 
to him. Leaning over the side of the boat she 
watched the rippling water, while her grave 
face showed that she was thinking seriously. 
Presently, with a little effort, she sat up and 
looked at J ob. 

“ Who waits on Mrs. Gordon ? ” she asked. 
“ Cooks, and makes things comfortable for her, 
you know.” 

Oh the Cap’n’s wife, and Bethia, she’s the 


MISS BBISK APPEARS. 


151 


Cap’n’s daughter, you know. Bethia makes 
everything look nice an’ pretty. I don’t b’lieve 
Mrs. Gordon will tell you that she’s wanted 
for anything that willin’ hands could do for 
her.” 

“I don’t believe she has, and I am real 
glad,” Miss Brisk said ; but the next instant 
she exclaimed,” I believe I must confess that 
I’m a little bit sorry, too. I thought I was going 
to be a great help to Mrs. Gordon — and I 
wanted to help her, for she has been very kind 
to me — but I don’t see as there will be any- 
thing for me to do for her. I’ll be just like 
that extra oar there in the bottom of the boat. 
There won’t be any use for me, and I cannot 
help feeling disappointed.” 

Job laughed. “You do kind of like to do 
hard things, don’t you ? ” he asked. 

“Well — yes — when I am able to do them. 
I like to feel my power. I suppose we all like 
to, for we are all made alike.” 

Job nodded a most emphatic agreement. 
“Yes, I reckon we all do like to,” he said, 
“ Power is something we all like to feel, it sort 
of makes life seem greater. Why, I’ve some- 
times thought that it was pleasanter livin’ on 
Loneman’s Island than it would be — say in 
Greenfields, jest because it’s harder to do things 
on the island. You have to overcome a dilfi- 


152 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

culty most every step of the way, and then, 
when you do overcome it, you have a feeling 
that means more than jest the fact that you’ve 
done your work — it’s the feeling that you have 
got a man’s strength and have used it like a 
man. I like to feel that.” 

“ Yes, I am sure you do,” Miss Brisk said, 
while her eyes sparkled with appreciation, “ I 
know how you feel, for I have felt just the 
same about the work I have to do as a woman. 
I’ve never been able to understand how strong, 
healthy women can bear to sit in rocking-chairs 
most of their time, and do fancy work. For 
my part I want to feel of some use in the 
world.” 

Here we are,” Job said, as just then the 
Sea Gull touched the dock. “ This is Loneman’s 
Island, ma’am. I’m glad I’ve had the pleasure 
of bringing you over,” he added, politely, as he 
helped Miss Brisk out of the boat, “and I 
b’lieve I’m safe in saying that you’ll find plenty 
to do here. Folks willin’ to be useful ain’t 
never suffered to rust, that’s my opinion.” 

“ It’s my opinion, too,” Miss Brisk said, as 
she gathered up her small pieces of baggage. 

Job laughed pleasantly. “ Our opinions seem 
to be the same about most things,” he said. 
“ Well, ma’am, I hope you won’t ever be sorry 
that you came to Loneman’s Island.” 


MISS BRISK APPEARS. 


153 


“ I don’t expect to be,” Miss Brisk said, with 
confidence. But,” she asked as she glanced 
around her, “ where am I to go now ? ” 

Job looked toward the lighthouse. “There 
is Bethia,” he said, pointing to the young girl, 
who was walking up from the beach. “ If you 
speak to her, ma’am, she’ll show you my 
house.” 


CHAPTEE X. 


ON THE BEACH. 

‘‘Our content 
Is our best having.” 

Shakespeare, 

T^ITH a step, that in a pantomime would 
have been a sure indicator of her name, 
Miss Brisk started across the dunes in pursuit 
of Bethia. 

“Wait,” she called, peremptorily. 

Bethia turned. The footprint in the sand, on 
his lonely island, could not have been a much 
greater surprise to Eobinson Crusoe than the 
appearance of the strange woman approaching 
her was to the girl. Too astonished to speak 
she stood still and waited for the stranger to 
announce her errand. 

“ I want to speak to you,” Miss- Brisk said, 
rapidly. “Pve come to see Mrs. Gordon. 
Show me where she lives.” The words sounded 
like a command, but they were immediately 
softened by the request, “ Will you ? ” 

154 


ON THE BEACH, 


155 


She lives in that house,” Bethia said, point- 
ing to Job’s cottage, “ but 1 don’t think you 
had better go there.” 

“ Since I have come three hundred miles for 
the express purpose of going there, I don’t 
think I’ll stop now,” Miss Brisk answered, in 
, her most decided tone. 

Well,” Bethia said, soberly, suppose if 
you really want to go there, you can. That 
is,” she added, warningly, “ if they will let you 
in — I don’t much believe they will.” 

‘‘ I’m not much afraid of being shut out,” 
Miss Brisk returned, wisely. 

Bethia looked at her with eyes that were 
full of questions. Who and what was she ? the 
girl wondered. She was not like Mrs. Gordon. 
The indescribable, subtle air of refinement and 
culture that surrounded Mrs. Gordon like an 
atmosphere, was entirely lacking in this new- 
comer. Even Bethia’s untutored eyes at once 
detected that. But she looked kind and good, 
and with one of her quick impulses Bethia 
decided that she liked her. 

“ You haven’t come to stay, have you ? ” she 
asked, curiously. 

“ Yes, as long as they need me. Thank you 
for showing me the house,” and Miss Brisk 
turned and took one step in the direction of 
Job’s cottage. Then, prompted by a sudden 


156 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

thought, she stopped and looked seriously at 
Bethia. 

‘‘ Do you ever go there ? ” she asked. 

No,’’ Bethia answered. They are quar- 
antined. Father doesn’t allow mother and me 
to go there.” 

Miss Brisk nodded understandingly. “Is 
that so? Well, I suppose that is a proof that 
your father has good common sense, and I’ve 
nothing to say against it ; but I feel, some way, 
as if I would like to get a little acquainted with 
you before I’m shut away from you. Where 
are you going ? ” 

“ Only to the beach. There is nowhere else 
to go,” Bethia said, dolefully. 

“ Well, I believe I would like a breath of the 
sea air before I go into the house, and if you 
don’t mind I will walk down to the shore with 
you. I suppose my things will be safe here.” 
And as Miss Brisk spoke she dropped her 
satchel and shawl strap down on one of the 
dunes. 

“ Yes. There is nobody to meddle with them 
on this island,” Bethia said, carelessly. 

Miss Brisk laughed. “ It seems pleasant, as 
well as queer, to find a place in this world 
where there is nobody to meddle with what 
doesn’t belong to them,” she said, as she 
walked along with Bethia* towards the beach. 


ON THE BEACH, 


157 


Bethia drew a long breath. Perhaps it’s 
queer,” she said, “ but I don’t think it is so 
very pleasant. Places where your things are 
meddled with, because there are people all 
about you, are a good deal pleasanter to live 
in than the places where your things are let 
alone, just because there is nobody to touch 
them.” 

Miss Brisk laughed again. “You never 
would have made a good Eobinson Crusoe,” 
she said, and then she added, abruptly, “We 
ought to be introduced. My name is Betty 
Brisk. What is your name ? ” 

“ Bethia Power.” 

“ Bethia. You’ve got a good old Bible name, 
anyway.” 

,“ Have I ? ” They were on the beach now, 
and as Miss Brisk threw herself down indo- 
lently on the warm sand Bethia followed her 
example; and then she said, “ I didn’t know 
my name was in the Bible. Well” — with a 
little sigh — “ I am thankful if it is a good name, 
for I am very sure it is an ugly one.” 

“ Keren Happuch is uglier — perhaps,” Miss 
Brisk answered absently, as with her eyes 
fastened on the white-capped waves she drew 
in long breaths of the pure salt air. “How 
good and refreshing this is,” she said, in a 
satisfied voice. 


158 ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND, 

Bethia did not reply, and after waiting a 
minute or two Miss Brisk turned and looked 
at her. 

Bethia’s elbows were resting on her knees, 
and her hands were clasped under her chin. 
Her attitude was not pretty, but it was sugges- 
tive of thought : and there was a dreamy, far- 
off expression in her eyes, as she sat looking 
straight before her, that interested and attracted 
Miss Brisk. As she watched her she began to 
wonder what the girl was thinking about. 

Have you lived here always 2 ” she asked. 

“Yes,” Bethia said, soberly. “I am six- 
teen, and I was only a year old when father 
brought me here.” 

“ You must be very fond of this island, then.” 
Miss Brisk said, in a tone that was half asser- 
tion and half question. 

“ Fond of it ! ” The fire in Bethia’s eyes 
startled Miss Brisk. “ Do you think you would 
be fond of a prison 2 ” she demanded, almost 
fiercely. 

“Well, no, of course not,” Miss Brisk an- 
swered. “ But I shouldn’t call a home on this 
island a prison,” she added, firmly. 

“Well, I wish you would just try living here 
awhile,” Bethia said, with a good deal of spirit. 

“ I half believe I would like to try it,” Miss 
Brisk said, with a little sigh. 


ON THE BEACH 


159 


Bethia looked at her in wonder. You are 
different from me,” she said, in a vexed voice. 

‘‘ Yes, I am different,” Miss Brisk acknowl- 
edged. And then she looked at the restless, 
discontented girl beside her, and said, kindly, 
“ you are sixteen, and I am forty. That ac- 
counts for the difference. I have battled with 
the world, and seen a good many hard times, 
and so the restfulness of this island seems very 
beautiful to me.” 

“ Perhaps it will seem so to me, when I am 
as old as you are,” Bethia said, with the 
splendid audacity of a youth that regarded forty 
as a patriarchal age, “ but it doesn’t seem so 
now. I hate it, I want to go away from it.” 

“ Where would you like to go, and what would 
you like to do ? ” Miss Brisk asked, as she took 
up a handful of the white beach sand and then 
let it slip slowly through her fingers. 

Bethia gave a short, discontented laugh. 
‘^Father asked me those very questions not 
long ago, and I couldn’t answer them,” she 
said, ‘‘ I couldn’t tell him where I wanted to 
go, nor what I wanted to do, and so, of course, 
I cannot tell you nor any one.” 

“ Then, if I were you, I would try to be con- 
tented here,” Miss Brisk said. 

“ I have tried to be contented here, and I 
cannot be, it is impossible,” Bethia said, sharply. 


160 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


“ What do you want most in this world ? ” 
Miss Brisk asked, curiously. 

“ Oh, I don’t know, I want everything, I 
guess,” Bethia said, sighingly, “ but friends and 
books most of all.” 

“ Friends, and you have your father and 
mother here. I don’t think you appreciate your 
parents, Bethia,” Miss Brisk said, reprovingly. 

Bethia’s eyes filled with tears. “You have 
no right to say that. I do love my parents 
dearly,” she insisted ; “ but ” 

The girl paused, she did not know how to 
finish her sentence, and Miss Brisk thought it 
wise to ask another question. “ You say you 
want books. Have you no books on this 
island ? ” 

“ No, only a few old ones I know by heart, 
and the Bible.” 

It suddenly occurred to Miss Brisk that here 
was an opportunity for her to do a little mis- 
sionary work. 

“ Why don’t you read your Bible more, since 
you are so anxious for something to read ? ” she 
asked. “ I know ” — she went on, reprovingly 
— “ that you don’t read it, for you didn’t know 
that j^our name was in it. Perhaps if you read 
it, it would help you to be contented.” 

“ I am not ready for the Bible yet,” Bethia 
said, gravely. 


ON THE BEACH. 


161 


Miss Brisk stared at the girl. 

Why,” she ejaculated, “ I thought the 
Bible was for every time, and 'every condition 
in life. I thought we were always ready 
for it.” 

“ I suppose good people always are,” Bethia 
sighed. “ But I don’t believe I am good. I 
don’t want the other world yet, I want this 
world.” 

Miss Brisk was silenced. She felt troubled 
and embarrassed as she looked at Bethia. She 
was herself too practical and matter-of-fact to 
fully understand her, but she knew that the 
girl needed guidance and help, and she felt 
anxious to give her aid, in what was, she felt 
sure, a trying time in her young life. 

But, as often happens to the would-be givers 
of good advice, the words she wanted all 
seemed just then to be hiding in the unexplored 
recesses of her mind, and she found it impos- 
sible to grasp them. She made one or two 
vain efforts to speak, and then ejaculated help- 
lessly. 

Well, I never.” 

Bethia looked at her with a keen perception 
of her thought. A smile dispelled the cloud in 
her eyes. 

No, I don’t believe you ever did see such a 
girl before,” she said ; and then she sprang up. 


162 ON LON EM AN ’ S ISLAND. 

and pointed towards one of the highest dunes 
on which a Avhite flag was waving. 

“ Mother has put out the weft for me/’ she 
said. “ She wants me, and I must go home.” 

“ I will go with you,” Miss Brisk said, and 
together the woman and girl, so strangely 
brought together, and so surely destined — 
though they little dreamed it — to influence 
each other’s life, walked back to the dune where 
Miss Brisk had left her things. 

‘^You see they are all here,” Bethia said, 
with an odd smile, and then with some hesita- 
tion she added, “ I am glad you have come to 
help Mrs. Gordon. I don’t suppose I will see 
you again — to speak to you, for father is very 
strict about the quarantine — but I am glad I 
know you, and I hope you will never be sorry 
that you came here.” 

Miss Brisk laughed, “ That is just what that 
good-hearted man in the boat wished,” she 
said. “ By the way, what is his name ? ” 

‘‘Job. Did you like him?” Bethia asked, 
indifferently. 

Miss Brisk had stooped to gather up her prop- 
erty. “Yes,” she said quickly, “I appreciated 
him. He is good and true. Well,” she contin- 
ued, as with both hands full she stood up and 
looked at Bethia, “ I cannot shake hands with 
you, as I would like to do— but I am glad to 


ON THE BEACH. 


163 


have made your acquaintance, and I thank you 
for your good wishes. I have come to give a 
friend’s help to those who have been very kind 
to me, and so I do not believe I will ever re- 
pent coming.” 

“ I hope you never will,” Bethia said, earn- 
estly. 

Miss Brisk stood still, and looked thoughtfully 
and yet doubtfully at the girl for a moment. 

“ I would like to say something to you, that 
I don’t know how to say,” she said, in a slow 
voice. “ I don’t know how to preach, and give 
good advice, but I want to tell you that I 
think you ought to try to be contented here in 
your home. Sometimes, when young girls get 
discontented, they make wretched mistakes. I 
hope you will be careful, and ” — Miss Brisk 
paused, and then with a little effort added — “ I 
hope you will read your Bible, and ask God to 
help you. When you get your own consent to 
do what God wishes you to do, and to be con- 
tent where he puts you — then you will be happy. 
I have lived a good many years in this world, 
and that is the only way I have ever known 
real happiness to come to any one. Good-bye.” 
And with a kind smile, that illuminated her 
plain face and made it for a moment almost 
beautiful. Miss Brisk walked rapidly away in 
the direction of Job’s cottage. 


164 


ON LONGMAN'S ISLAND, 


If Miss Brisk had had any misgivings as to 
the welcome awaiting her in that cottage she 
was quickly reassured ; and she soon found that 
she was not only welcome but needed. Donald 
was better and gaining, slowly perhaps, yet 
surely, every day ; but he still required careful 
and constant attention, and Mrs. Gordon, whose 
powers of endurance had been sorely taxed, 
was glad and grateful to have the companion- 
ship and help of a woman friend. So Miss 
Brisk, to her own great satisfaction, was speed- 
ily installed as housekeeper, nurse, and sym- 
pathizing friend. 

Finding plenty to do, ain’t you ? ” Job asked 
her, when a day or two after her arrival he 
found her busy with some light work in the 
kitchen. 

“ Yes,” she answered, cheerfully. I didn’t 
make any mistake when I came here. I’m 
needed, I am sure of that ; I am helping to save 
Mrs. Gordon’s strength.” 

Job smiled approvingly. 

I thought you would find your place,” he 
said. There are always plenty of leaks one 
can help to stop in this world, if only one has 
a mind to.” 

Miss Brisk stood in the doorway and looked 
after him, as he limped off. 

“ Yes,” she said, with a wise little shake of 


ON THE BEACH. 


165 


her head, “ You are a good man, Job, and — 
you don’t know it, but it’s true — ^you ain’t never 
been half appreciated, until” — ^with a queer 
little laugh — “ until now.” 


CHAPTEE XL 


WHAT EACH NEEDED. 

“ Souls are built as temples are, 

Based on truth’s eternal law, 

Sure and steadfast without flaw. 

Through the sunshine, through the snows, 

Up and up the building goes. 

Every fair thing finds its place. 

Every hard thing lends a grace. 

Every hand may make or mar.” 

Anonymous. 

T AM sure we are safe now,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, cheerfully, one morning at the break- 
fast table. 

^‘It does seem so, Katharine,” Mr. Gordon 
replied. 

“ Yes,” Mrs. Gordon continued, while her 
face and voice seemed bright with the sun- 
shine of a happy heart, “ it is just four weeks 
this morning since we came to Loneman’s 
Island. I do not believe the poor sweepers of 
India — the lowest of all the Hindoo, you know 
— ever feel more utterly wretched and outcast 
than we felt that day. And now Donald is 
gaining rapidly, and every one else on this island 
166 


WHAT EACH NEEDED, 


167 


is in perfect health. If Captain Power was not 
so strict about keeping Mrs. Power and Bethia 
^ to the leeward ’ there would be nothing now 
to remind us of danger. Yes, truly, I do be- 
lieve we are safe now. Don’t you think so, 
Allan?” 

Mr. Douglas looked at her and smiled a 
little. I have never thought you anything 
but safe,” he answered, gently. Isn’t God’s 
child always safe in his keeping ? ” 

Pshaw,” Mr. Gordon exclaimed, impatient- 
ly. The next instant his expression changed, 
and in a softened voice he said : “ I beg your 
pardon, Allan.” 

“ You need not beg mine,” Mr. Douglas said, 
in a grave but pleasant voice. 

Mr. Gordon did not reply. In an absent, pre- 
occupied manner he toyed with his spoon, and 
dropped an extra lump of sugar into his already 
well-sweetened coffee. Presently with a little 
effort, as if he were trying to escape from some 
troublesome thought, he said : 

"Well, since we are no longer anxious about 
Donald or ourselves, I suppose we may as well 
begin to talk and plan like people who expect 
to live ; and I would like to know how and 
where you wish to pass the remainder of this 
summer.” 

He looked at his wife, and she answered 


168 


ON LONNMAN^S ISLAND. 


quietly: “I think our circumstances have de- 
cided that question, Koderick. W e cannot move 
Donald for some weeks yet. "We must con- 
sider other people, you know.” 

“ Other people ! ” Mr. Gordon repeated, ir- 
ritably. ^^For one happy moment I had for- 
gotten them. They always step in, and claim 
consideration at the most inconvenient times. 
Well,” he suggested after a moment’s thought, 
“ since we can have no pleasure on the land be- 
cause of other people, we can at least be inde- 
pendent on the water. I can order the yacht 
to meet us at Sand Point. Captain Power can 
carry us to it through the bay in his boat. 
‘ Other people’ will have nothing to fear from 
us then. Would you like that, Katharine ? ” 
Mrs. Gordon looked disturbed. What would 

you do on the yacht ? ” she asked. 

“Oh, just sail about. We might take the 
usual summer cruise, we need not land any- 
where. Would j^ou like it ? ” 

“ You might order the yacht,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, soberly. “Then, if you wish, you can go 
on a cruise, if I do not.” 

“ As if I would leave you,” Mr. Gordon said, 
in a vexed voice. “ Ko, thank you, Katharine. 
If you think such an arrangement desirable I 
do not. The yacht can stay in Safe Harbor.” 

“ Wouldn’t it be better to order it ? ” Mr. Doug- 


WHAT EACH NEEDED. 


169 


las asked now. If it were within reach, and 
you did not care to take a long cruise, you 
could go for a day’s excursion whenever you 
pleased, Eoderick. That would make a pleas- 
ant break in the monotony of your life here.” 

Mr. Gordon looked pleased. “ I believe that 
is a good suggestion,” he said. “ You are really 
a very practical fellow, Allan, though you are 
so — so — I hardly know what to call you ” — he 
confessed, with a little laugh — “ unless it is 
other- worldish.” 

I hope it is that,” Mr. Douglas said, with a 
smile that seemed touched with some sweet, 
grave thought. 

Mr. Gordon watched him a moment, “Well,” 
he said, as he met his eyes, “ whatever it is I 
must own that it makes you a pleasant man to 
live with ; and sometimes I almost wish that I 
was like you.” 

“ I wish it wholly and entirely,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, impulsively. 

Mr. Gordon turned to her. “ Are you speak- 
ing for yourself or for me?” he asked, in a 
voice that, though very quiet, seemed stirred by 
some deep feeling. 

“ For us both,” Mrs. Gordon replied, quickly. 
“ O Eoderick,” she continued, pleadingly, 
“haven’t we both had enough of worldliness 
and unbelief ? ” 


170 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


“Enough of unbelief?” Mr. Gordon inter- 
rupted, in a quick, nervous voice. “ Yes, un- 
belief has never added to my happiness. It has 
never added to the happiness of any thought- 
ful man. But if you cannot believe — what 
then ? ” and he looked keenly at Mr. Douglas. 

“ There is no cannot,” Mr. Douglas said, 
gently. “ When the child cries, the father 
hears.” 

“ I want proofs, not sentiments,” Mr. Gordon 
said, in a dissatisfied voice. 

“Christ knew w^hat 5^ou would want. He 
offers you a sure proof. His words are plain 
and firm : ^ If any man willeth to do his — God’s 
will, he shall know of the teaching whether it 
be of God.’ ” * Mr. Douglas spoke in a low, 
reverent voice. How he paused a moment, 
and then quietly but firmly he said : 

“ Ho other man can live your life for you, 
Roderick, and no other man can prove, for 
you, the existence of God. Your will has done 
much for you in material matters, it must help 
you now.” 

“Can my will help me to accomplish the 
impossible ? ” Mr. Gordon demanded, almost 
fiercely. 

“ Will to do the will^ and you shall know,” 
Mr. Douglas answered, gravely. 

* Revised Version. 


WHAT EACH NEEDED. 


171 


There was a solemn yet sweet silence in the 
little dining room for a few seconds, and then, 
in a low, tender whisper Mrs. Gordon said : 

“ I do will.” 

Mr. Gordon looked at her. His voice was 
agitated, but gentle. 

“ I will never oppose you again, Katharine,” 
he promised. “ If the Christian faith can add 
to your happiness, I am willing and ” — with a 
trembling emphasis on the word — “ glad that 
you should accept it.” 

“ And you ? ” Mrs. Gordon breathed rather 
than spoke. 

“ I ? Well I — don’t know — Allan has given 
me a word that I needed — perhaps — I’ll think 
about it — perhaps I’ll test that proof. Ko,” he 
proceeded rapidly, with a wave of his hand to 
prevent their speaking, “don’t take me up on 
that, either of you. I am not quite ready to 
sail under your colors yet. My will and I have 
a work to do first.” 

Ko One spoke, and Mr. Gordon in evident 
haste to change the subject, said, as he pushed 
back his chair and arose from the table, “ Well, 
we have settled one question. We will remain 
here until Donald can leave without endanger- 
ing other people.” 

Mrs. Gordon smiled contentedly. Loneman’s 
Island, with its radiant sunshine, its melody of 


172 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

waters, and its health-giving winds, seemed to 
her now a pleasant summer home. She w^as 
sure that Donald could not be in a better place, 
and for herself, the seclusion and the long, 
quiet days, undisturbed by any social duties, 
were very welcome now, at the beginning of 
her Christian life, when she felt that she had 
much to consider and much to learn. 

^‘Katharine,” Mr. Gordon called from the 
hall, a few moments later, while Mrs. Gordon 
was still lingering at the breakfast table with 
Miss Brisk, come out on the stoop as soon as 
you are ready, and we will make a list of the 
articles we will need to order from Greenfields, 
if we are going to remain here in exile the rest 
of this summer. "While Ave are considering 
‘ other people ’ Ave must also consider our own 
creature comforts.” 

I shall want you, Betty, your judgment 
Avill be better than mine — about this house,” 
Mrs. Gordon said, as she obeyed her husband. 

“Now, what do we want?” he 'asked, 
promptly, Avhen they were all comfortably 
seated on the stoop. 

“ Listen to my plan before you begin to make 
out the list, Eoderick,” Mrs. Gordon said, smil- 
ingly. “ I have a great desire to furnish this 
house completely.” 

“ Make it as complete as you like, my dear, 


WHAT EACH NEEDED. 


173 


I wish you to order everything that can add 
to your comfort,” Mr. Gordon said, as he pro- 
duced his notebook and pencil. 

“ Thank you. I know you do ; but it is not 
my own comfort that I am planning for. Job 
has had many beautiful dreams of furnishing 
this house and living here with — ‘ somebody,’ 
and I would dearly enjoy helping him to realize 
those dreams.” 

“Can you provide him with — somebody?” 
Mr. Douglas asked, laughingly. 

Mrs. Gordon laughed in sympathy. “ JSTo,” 
she said, “ I am afraid ‘ somebody ’ is like the 
roc’s egg, unattainable ; but about the furnish- 
ing — what do you think about it, Betty ? ” 

Miss Brisk looked sober and almost severe. 
“ I don’t know,” she said, shortly. “ I believe 
I’d rather not express any opinion. I don’t 
want to meddle with Job’s dreams.” 

“ I think,” Mr. Douglas said, gravely, though 
there was a smile in his eyes, “ I think unless 
you can make all Job’s dreams realities it 
would be a pity to touch any of them, 
Katharine.” 

Mrs. Gordon looked disappointed — “ I sup- 
pose you are right,” she said, “ but I do fairly 
ache to do something to express my heart-deep 
gratitude to Job and Captain Power.” 

“There is that young girl, Bethia,” Miss 


174 ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 

Brisk said, eagerly. I think something ought 
to be done for her, Mrs. Gordon. She needs 
help more than any one else on this island.” 

Why, what do you know about her ? ” Mrs. 
Gordon asked, in surprise. “ I didn’t suppose 
that you had ever spoken to her, Betty.” 

“ I saw her for a few minutes on the beach 
the day I came here,” Miss Betty explained. 

Some way — I don’t know just how it happened 
— we had quite a confidential conversation.” 

^^What did you learn about her?” Mr. 
Douglas asked. 

She is the most discontented girl I have 
ever known. I learned that for one thing,” 
Miss Betty said, with decision. 

“ Discontented girls are not usually entitled 
to much praise,” Mr. Gordon remarked, care- 
lessly. 

“ They have a claim to our pity, though,” 
Mr. Douglas said, gravely. 

‘^Yes,” Miss Brisk said, with emphasis, 
do really and truly think that that girl is to be 
pitied. Why, in the first place, you know, she 
has beauty enough to make half a dozen plain 
girls pretty, if only you could divide her good 
looks among them.” 

“ And leave her without any ? ” Mr. Douglas 
asked, smilingly, while Mrs. Gordon said, 

She is very pretty,” and Mr. Gordon observed, 


WRAT EACH NEEDED. 


175 


with a laugh, “ beauty is not usually considered 
such a cause for pity.” 

“You may all laugh,” Miss Brisk replied, 
firmly, “ but I believe you understand what I 
mean. Beauty is a good thing to have — like 
turkey for a Thanksgiving dinner, you know, 
only you want a good many other things with 
both of them.” 

“ What does this girl want ? ” Mr. Douglas 
asked. 

“ Well,” Miss Betty said, soberly, “perhaps 
I had better tell you first what she doesn’t 
want. She says she doesn’t want the other 
world, and she isn’t ready for the Bible yet.” 

“ She seems to know her own mind pretty 
well,” Mr. Gordon said, with an amused laugh. 

“ What does she want ? ” Mr. Douglas asked 
again. 

“Well, she said she believed she wanted 
almost everything in this world, but most of 
all books and friends.” 

“Poor little girl,” Mrs. Gordon said, com- 
passionately. “We might order some books 
for her to-day. What would you send her, 
Allan?” 

Mr. Douglas’ eyes were fastened on the white 
sails of a passing vessel. He seemed in no 
haste to answer his sister’s question, and Miss 
Brisk looked at him a little anxiously. 


176 


0-ZV^ LON EM AN ISLAND, 


“ I don’t want to prejudice you against that 
girl, Mr. Allan,” she said, earnestly. I think 
she is a very interesting girl — a good deal more 
than common — and I am sure she means to be 
a good girl. You must not judge her harshly 
because she isn’t ready for the Bible.” 

“ I don’t,” Mr. Douglas said, while his eyes 
still followed the fast sailing vessel. 

She makes me think,” he said in a moment, 
of these lines : 

“ ‘ Why this is but a peevish girl 

At war with destiny — another name for God.”’ 

“ That’s a good word portrait,” Mr. Gordon 
said, appreciatively. 

“ Yes,” Mrs. Gordon said, in a tender voice, 
“ I think those lines describe her well, Allan. 
She does not seem to me, judging from what 
Betty tells us, to understand herself. She is 
only conscious of a want, somewhere in her life, 
that she can neither explain nor satisfy. Poor 
child she does need pity. And I suppose” — 
and Mrs. Gordon sighed as she spoke — I sup- 
pose there are thousands of just such girls in 
the world.” 

‘‘ But this one is here, with us,” Mr. Douglas 
said, gravely. 

“ Yes, and we must do something for her,” 
Mrs. Gordon answered. I wish we could see 


WHAT EACH NEEDED. 


177 


her. I do hope Captain Power will not compel 
her to keep to the ‘leeward’ as long as we re- 
main on this island.” 

“ Captain Power has got good common 
sense,” Miss Brisk said, shortly. 

Mrs. Gordon laughed. “ W ell,” she said, “ we 
can at least gratify her desire for books. What 
shall we send her ? ” 

“ A school edition of Shakespeare — the ex- 
purgated, you know,” Mr. Gordon suggested. 

“ What, Shakespeare for such a girl ? ” Mrs. 
Gordon said, doubtfully. While Miss Brisk, 
with the privilege of a trusted companion, ex- 
claimed, “ Well, I never, Mr. Gordon. We 
have had a Shakespeare in our house always, 
and I don’t like it at all. I’ve never been able 
to get through a piece in it.” 

It was impossible not to laugh a little at 
Miss Brisk’s quaint remark, but it had no weight 
with Mr. Gordon. 

“ Different minds enjoy different books. Miss 
Betty,” he said, kindly ; and then to his wife 
he said : “ Send that girl the Shakespeare. I 
really believe she will appreciate it. Nursery 
rhymes, or sentimental and sensational stories, 
wdll do her no good. She wants this world, 
she says, and she will find all the glory and the 
gloom of it portrayed in Shakespeare. I ad- 
vise you to send it.” 

12 


178 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

Mrs. Gordon still looked doubtful. Would 
you send it, Allan ? ’’ she asked. 

Somewhat to her surprise Mr. Douglas an- 
swered promptly, Yes.” 

Why ? ” Mrs. Gordon asked, curiously. 

Because her mind wants cultivating, and 
Shakespeare is full of wit, wisdom, and wonder- 
ful thoughts that must help to enrich it.” 

“ But the Bible,” Miss Brisk asked, in a trou- 
bled voice, when will she be ready for that ? ” 

“ Ah,” Mr. Douglas said, musingly, “ I can- 
not tell you that. She needs what the Bible 
has to give her more than she needs anything 
else, but she does not realize that need. We 
must give her help, as far as she will take it 
now, for the rest — we must leave her in God’s 
hands.” 

Shall we send her nothing but Shake- 
speare?” Mrs. Gordon asked, in a tone that 
sounded a little dissatisfied. 

I will send her MacDuff’s ‘ Mind of Jesus,’ ” 
Mr. Douglas said, quietly. 

That and Shakespeare. Extremes do meet 
sometimes,” Mr. Gordon said, in an amused 
voice. 

Well, perhaps those books will be enough 
for the present,” Mrs. Gordon said, after a 
moment’s thought. ‘‘ Possibly before we leave 
here we will learn more about her tastes, and 


WHAT EACH NEED ED. 


179 


then we will know better what to give her. 
Selecting books for persons you do not know, 
seems to me very much like walking in the 
night through an unlighted and unfamiliar 
house ; you cannot tell how it is furnished and 
so you do not know what is lacking or needed 
in it.” 

“ Beth-i-a. Beth-i-a, where are you ? ” It 
was late in the afternoon, and Job and his 
“Cap’n” had just returned from Greenfields. 
Now he stood in Mrs. Power’s kitchen with a 
good sized package in his hands. “ Where are 
you, Beth ? ” he called again. 

“ Here.” And Bethia stepped out of the 
pantry, where she was busy with her prepara- 
tions for supper. What do you want. Job ? ” 

‘‘ To give you this. The folks at my house 
sent it to you.” 

“ What is it ? ” Bethia asked, as with eager 
hands she grasped the package. 

Just what you want most, I reckon — books. 
They ” — and Job nodded towards his cottage — 
‘‘sent for them this afternoon. Me and the 
Cap’n have been to get more things for ’em, 
you know, — it is jest astonishin’ how many 
things rich folks do want — an’ these books they 
told me to bring to you, and they said they 
hoped you would enjoy them.” 


180 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 


Enjoy them. It was a pity, perhaps, that the 
kind strangers in Job’s cottage could not have 
seen Bethia as she untied the string and opened 
her precious package. Almost as if they were 
living, sensitive things, she handled those books. 
With eyes that danced with delight she ex- 
amined them ; and then, suddenly, she took 
them all up in her arms, and laid her face 
lovingly against them. 

O books, books, books,” she said, in a 
voice her very joy made pathetic ; I am so 
glad to have you. I have wanted you so much.” 

“ Are you satisfied now, Beth ? ” Job asked, 
the next afternoon, when he found her on the 
beach absorbed in one of her new treasures. 
Bethia looked up, her cheeks were glowing, and 
the fire in her dark eyes made Job think of the 
jewels that flashed on Mrs. Gordon’s hands. 

“O Job,” she said, breathlessly. do 

believe I am almost satisfied now. This book 
is wonderful. Won-der-ful.” She repeated 
slowly, with a tender emphasis on each syllable. 

“ What is it about ? ” Job asked. 

Bethia’s Shakespeare was a carefully edited 
edition intended for schools, and each play was 
bound singly. Prompted by one of those secret, 
subtle impulses, that, though we do not under- 
stand them, have so much to do with the 
forming of our characters and the ordering of 


WHAT EACH NEEDED, 


181 


onr lives, Bethia that afternoon, after a loving 
examination of all her books, had decided to 
read the “Tempest” first. Now as Job re- 
peated his question, “ What’s it about, Beth ? ” 
she answered, in a voice so touched with her 
enjoyment that it made Job think of music : 
“ It’s about a shipwreck. Job, and a great storm 
at sea. Sit down, and I’ll read you some of 
it.” 

Curious to know about the book Job sat 
down ; and Bethia turned to the beginning of 
the play and read the description of the storm 
and wreck. Her familiarity with the sea made 
it all seem very real to her. As she read : 

“ O, I have suffered 

With those I saw suffer : a brave vessel, 

Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, 
Dash’d all to pieces.” 

She looked up and met Job’s interested eyes. 
“ That’s jest as real as life, Bethia,” he said, 
earnestly. “ Seems to me it’s about the most 
interestin’ thing I ever heard read that wasn’t 
in the Bible. I tell you, Bethia, the man who 
wrote that knew all about storms at sea. I 
wouder if he’d ever been a sailor.” 

“ I don’t know,” Bethia said, thoughtfully. 
“ I was looking through the other books last 
night, and it seemed to me that he knew all 


182 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND, 


about everything, Job. He seems to tell you 
everything you’ve ever seen or thought.” 

“I wish you’d read more of it,” Job said, 
longingly. 

Yery readily Bethia complied : and three 
acts were read before she or her listener took 
any note of time. Then, as she closed the book, 
Bethia said, regretfully : “ I must go home now, 
but I’ll read you the rest to-morrow, if you 
want to hear it. Job.” 

Job smiled assent. You won’t get tired of 
reading that book very soon, will you, Bethia ? ” 
he said, 

No, I don’t think I will,” Bethia said, posi- 
tively. “ I do believe this Shakespeare is just 
the best book in the world. Don’t you believe 
it is. Job?” 

“It’s good, it’s pow’ful good,” Job said, after 
a moment’s silence, “ but I can’t say that it’s 
the best book in the world, Beth, for I’m sure 
it isn’t.” 

“ What is the best then ? ” Bethia asked, care- 
lessly, while she gently patted the book in her 
lap. 

“ The Bible,” Job said, reverently. 

“ 0-oh ! ” That little word, as Bethia 
breathed, rather than spoke it, meant much. 

There was a pained expression in Job’s mild 
eyes, but he did not attempt to prove his asser- 


WUAT EACH NEEDED, 183 

tion. The Shakespeare had lain in Bethia’s lap 
while she read, and now that it was closed 
Job noticed that she had another book under 
it. 

“ Is that another Shakespeare ? ” he asked. 

‘‘ No,” Bethia answered. “ It came with the 
Shakespeare, but it’s ‘ The Mind of Jesus.’ ” 

“^The Mind of Jesus,”’ Job repeated, in 
a gentle, wishful voice. ‘‘ Let me take that 
book, Bethia ? ” 

With a smile for what she thought his fool- 
ishness, Bethia gave him the book. Job held 
it in both hands, as if it were something he 
liked to feel, and occasionally as they walked 
home he looked at it with a tender smile. He 
did not speak again until they reached the 
lighthouse ; then, as he handed the little book 
back to Bethia, he said, gently, ^^You think 
that Shakespeare had a great mind don’t you, 
Beth?” 

“ Yes,” Bethia said, fervently. 

Job looked at her wishfully. ^‘You may 
read a great many books, Beth,” he said gently, 

and if you live I expect you will, but you will 
never find a mind like that mind”— and he 
touched the little book in her hand — “ that was 
a perfect mind and a loving mind. I wish,” in 
a tone of tender pleading, I wish you would 
try to understand that mind, Beth.” 


184 ON LONNMAN^S ISLAND. 

Something in Job’s gentle voice and manner 
surprised and softened Bethia. 

“ I will,” she said, in a low voice, more to 
herself than to him. ‘‘ I will try.” 

It was a simple promise, given perhaps, with- 
out thought, on the impulse of the moment ; 
but with Bethia Power promises were sacred 
things. When she made one she always ex- 
pected to keep it, and now she did not forget 
nor dream of breaking this one. 

That night just before retiring she opened 
the little book and found the reading for that 
day. It was headed with the tender question, 
“Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?” 

As she read it, it seemed to Bethia as if a 
yearning voice in her heart was asking that 
question of her. 

“ Does Jesus really care .so much for my 
love ? ” she thought, humbly, “ then why — oh 
why, don’t I love him ? He is the best, and 
we can’t help loving the best when we know 
it.” 

It was a solemn moment in Bethia Power’s 
life, one of those solemn, testing moments that 
come to all God’s children. 

The Divine Spirit had touched her heart. 
The Father had spoken to his child ; the need 
of her soul — to know and love God — had been 
revealed to her. She might, have hardened 


WUAT EACH NEEDED, 


185 


her heart ; she might have tried to satisfy her 
soul with the things of time and sense alone : 
she might have silenced the tender voice that 
pleaded with her. She might have done this, 
for the power of choice was hers, but she 
yielded. As the Father’s voice said, “ Come,” 
her heart replied, ‘^1 will.” And from that 
hour, through the sunshine and the storms of 
time, her life path wended upward. 


CHAPTER XII. 


ON THE YACHT. 

‘‘ O ye, who taste that Love is sweet 
Set waymarks for all doubtful feet 
That stumble on in search of it. 

Sing notes of Love ; that some who hear 
Far off inert may lend an ear ; 

Rise up, and wonder, and draw near. 

Lead life of Love ; that others who 
Behold your life may kindle too 
With Love and cast their lot with you.” 

Christina Rossetti, 

“ rnilERE may be sweeter words in our lan- 
giiage, but I doubt if there are any that 
sound pleasanter to our ears than these — ^ You 
have helped me,’ ” Mrs. Gordon said, thought- 
fully, one morning, as she sat on the beach with 
her husband and brother. 

“ Which means ” — Mr. Gordon began, and 
then stopped and looked at her. 

“ That I have a great desire to hear them 
said to me,” she explained. 

“ You are modest in your desires. Pray is 
there any particular person from whom you 
wish to hear those words ? ” 

186 


ON THE YACHT, 


187 


“ Yes, I would like to hear them from Bethia 
Power,” Mrs. Gordon answered, “ I do feel 
greatly interested in that girl. Her happiness 
in those books, as Job reported it to us, was 
really pathetic, Eoderick.” 

“Most things are pathetic — if you get the 
right point of view,” Mr. Gordon replied. 

“ That was, anyway : and it was a revelation 
to me too,” Mrs. Gordon confessed, with a little 
sigh. “We who have, as it were, played all 
our lives in libraries, have no comprehension of 
what books are to the poor who hunger for 
them arid cannot afford to buy them. I do not 
want to be like the . girl in the old fairy story, 
who dropped pearls and diamonds from her 
mouth whenever she spoke ; but I think now 
that wherever I go I would like to drop good 
books.” 

“ You may do it,” Mr. Gordon said, with the 
ease of a man whose means would allow of 
almost any expenditure. 

“ But about that young girl,” Mr. Douglas 
said, hastily, “ what do you want to do now 
for her, Katharine ? ” 

“It is impossible to answer that question, 
Allan, for I do not know what she most needs ; 
but I wish we could do something to give 
a little color and brightness to her young 
life.” 


188 ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 

‘‘ There’s the yacht,” Mr. Gordon said. 

“ Where ? ” Mrs. Gordon exclaimed, with a 
quick glance at the ocean. 

“ ^ In my mind’s eye, Horatio,’ ” Mr. Gordon 
quoted, laughingly. 

You may enjoy having it there, but I am 
afraid no one else can,” Mrs. Gordon retorted. 

Do not be so severe, my dear. I have just 
thought of a way in which the yacht can be 
used to further your good wishes for that poor 
girl. It is there at Sandy Point, you know — 
has been there a fortnight, and as yet we have 
made no use of it. Now I suggest that you 
invite Mrs. Power and her daughter to go with 
you for a day’s sail. I am sure it will be safe 
for them to meet you on the yacht, and in that 
way you can learn something about their tastes 
and wants. Donald is so well now that he will 
be happj^ with me alone for one day. I will 
take good care of him; and you, and Miss 
Brisk, and Allan can go. It will be a pleasant 
little outing for you, my dear, and after your 
long confinement on this island I think you 
need to have a little color and brightness come 
into your own life.” 

‘‘ Do you suppose Captain Power will allow 
Mrs. Power and Bethia to go ? ” Mrs. Gordon 
asked, doubtfully. 

“ I will ask him,” Mr. Gordon promised. 


ON THE YACHT. 


189 


David Power when asked promptly agreed 
to Mr. Gordon’s kind plan. 

“ You see,” he said, sagely, “ there has always 
got to be a first time for people to meet after 
such sicknesses, and in all such matters people 
must use common sense. I was thinking this 
morning that I didn’t believe it was necessary 
to make Bethia and her mother keep to your 
^ leeward ’ any longer. The little boy is about 
well, and you have done everything the Board 
of Health said you must do, and I don’t believe 
there could be a better place for my folks to 
meet yours than on the water, with the pure, 
sea wind blowing, all about them. So I thank 
you for them, Mr. Gordon, and they may go if 
they want to.” 

If David Power had really had the slightest 
suspicion that Mrs. Power and Bethia would 
not care to go on the sail, one glance at their 
pleased faces when he reported his conversation 
with Mr. Gordon convinced him of his mistake. 

With quick, glad steps, Bethia danced around 
the little kitchen. 

“ I feel as if I were really going out into the 
world,” she said, joyously. 

You have been on the water before ; and a 
day’s sail won’t show you much of the world,” 
David said, soberly, though his eyes smiled as 
he watched Bethia’s happy face. 


190 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


“ No, not much,” Bethia agreed, but it is an 
outing, father ; it’s a step away from this old 
island, you know.” 

Don’t,” David exclaimed, in a pained voice. 
‘‘ Don’t talk so, Beth.” 

Bethia danced to his side. I won’t,” she 
said, with the new, sweet gentleness that had 
come to her recently. “ Only ” — in a coaxing 
voice — when your bird gets ready to try her 
wings, father, you won’t clip them, will you ? ” 

David sighed and then smiled. 

“ My bird must not be too impatient,” he 
said, gently. ‘‘ I have known birds to fall from 
their nests, and get badly bruised, Beth, just 
because they tried to fly before they were 
strong enough.” 

Beth,” Mrs. Power said at that moment, 
see here, what dress will you wear to-mor- 
row ? ” 

“ Dress,” — Bethia stopped to consider. 

“ Your nicest won’t be any too nice,” David 
said, wisely. You are going with very nice 
people, you know.” 

Bethia nodded. “ I know it,” she said. 
‘‘ Mother,” she continued, as her father left the 
kitchen, ^^now you’ll see Mrs. Gordon, and 
you’ll know just what I want to be.” 

Mrs. Power looked a little disturbed. 
“Beth,” she said in a kind, motherly voice, 


ON THE YACHT 


191 


“ you are yourself, and you cannot be any one 
else. You may, with God’s help, make your- 
self a good, sweet woman ; but if you try to be 
like — Mrs. Gordon, for instance — it will be just 
as if, in piecing my bed quilts, I took my star 
and tulip patterns and tried to mix them to- 
gether in one block. You know what would 
happen then, Beth, I’d spoil my patterns, and 
what I made wouldn’t look like anything that 
ever shone in the sky or grew in a garden.” 

Bethia laughed, but in a second she looked 
wishfully at her mother and said, ‘‘"We can’t 
help longing to be like what is beautiful, when 
we see it, mother.” 

‘‘Yes, that is natural,” Mrs. Power said; 
“ but the best way, Beth, is to admire beautiful 
people without envying them.” 

“ But wouldn’t you be glad to have me beau- 
tiful, like Mrs. Gordon, mother ? ” Bethia asked, 
earnestly. 

Mrs. Power looked searchingly at Bethia for 
an instant. If the girl had been, as she phrased 
it, “ fishing for a compliment,” she would not 
have spared her, but she saw that she was inno- 
cent of any such motive, and so she answered 
coolly : “ Perhaps I would, Beth ; but there is 
one thing I wouldn’t be glad to have you, and 
that is an affected girl.” 

Bethia’s vocabulary was a limited one, and in 


192 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


her secluded life she had never heard many of 
our most familiar words. 

An affected girl,” she repeated, wonder- 
ingly, what is an affected girl, mother ? ” 

A girl who puts on airs, and pretends to be 
what she isn’t,” Mrs. Power explained, in a 
severe voice. “ I used to know such girls, Beth, 
and I believe that an affected manner always 
covers a deceitful heart. I’d rather have you 
rude than affected, Beth, but,” Mrs. Power 
added, in a gentler tone, as her eyes lingered 
fondly on Bethia’s bright face, you needn’t be 
either.” 

I won’t be if I can help it,” Bethia prom- 
ised, humbly. 

Mrs. Power smiled approvingly ; I don’t 
believe you will be,” she said. “ Well, come 
now, and let us decide about our dresses.” 

Bethia never forgot the exquisite pleasure 
that the next day brought her. The meeting 
with Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, and Miss Brisk, and 
Mr. Douglas, and the sail with them, in her 
father’s boat, to Sandy Point, where the yacht 
awaited them, would have been happiness 
enough for any common day ; but the hours 
spent on the yacht — marking, as they did, her 
first glimpse of luxurious life and her first in- 
tercourse with cultivated people — ^made a day, 
that, through all her after years, she loved to 


ON THE YACHT. 


193 


recall and linger over. The yacht, a splendidly 
built and elegantly furnished little vessel, was 
to her a wonderful revelation of what wealth 
could do. 

“ Do you like it, Beth ? ” Mrs. Gordon asked, 
pleasantly, when at one time they were sitting 
in the pretty saloon. 

Bethia was looking around her with admiring 
eyes. “ I never knew before that people could 
make such a beautiful home of a ship,” she said, 
simply. 

La ! people who have money can make 
beautiful homes anywhere — if only they have 
got hearts as well as purses,” Miss Brisk de- 
clared, in her positive way. I wonder,” and 
she looked sharply at Bethia, “ I wonder if 
you would be more contented on this yacht, 
than you are on Loneman’s Island, Bethia.” 

Bethia hesitated, the question annoyed her 
a little, but her mother and Mrs. Gordon had 
gone to the far end of the saloon to look at- an 
upholstered chair that Mrs. Power greatly 
admired, and Miss Brisk stood beside her watch- 
ing her and waiting for her answer. So, rather 
unwillingly, she "said, “ I don’t know, perhaps I 
wouldn’t. I might feel crowded here some- 
times ; I might want room.” 

‘‘ Boom for what ? ” Miss Brisk demanded. 

“ To groAV — I guess.” 

13 


194 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

Miss Brisk surveyed her critically. You 
are tall enough now,” she said, in her most 
matter-of-fact voice. “ Isn’t she, Mr. Douglas ? ” 

Bethia turned quickly. Mr. Douglas had just 
come down and was standing near her. He 
smiled as he met her eyes. 

“ One does sometimes feel crowded on a ship,” 
he said, kindly ; “ but what is the matter with 
Loneman’s Island, Miss Bethia, haven’t you 
room enough there ? ” 

“There’s nothing else there,” Bethia an- 
swered, soberly. 

“ Well, I never,” Miss Brisk exclaimed. “ You 
are a queer girl, Bethia, one moment you com- 
plain that you want room, and the next mo- 
ment you complain that you have got nothing 
else. I do wonder what would content 
you.” 

“ I — don’t — ^know,” Bethia said slowly ; “ but 
I suppose,” she added, in a voice that was a 
little defiant as well as sad, “ I suppose people 
are always contented in heaven.” 

“ Well, I never,” Miss Brisk exclaimed again. 
She thought that Bethia needed a sharp reproof, 
and she intended that exclamation to be the 
prelude to it. But Mr. Douglas understood 
her and gently interfered. 

“ Aren’t you ready to go up on deck ? ” he 
inquired. “We ought not to shut ourselves 


ON THE YACHT. 


195 


away from the sunshine on such a glorious day 
as this.” 

“ I believe I’ll stay down here, but you can 
take Bethia up,” Miss Brisk said ; and very 
willingly Bethia followed Mr. Douglas up the 
companion way. 

Her mother and Mrs. Gordon had gone up a 
few moments before, and were already comfort- 
ably ensconced in a sheltered corner. Mr. 
Douglas found a seat for Bethia, and stood be- 
side her a few minutes, kindly pointing out the 
places of interest they were passing. He held a 
book in his hand and Bethia’s eyes were drawn 
to it as to a magnet. Presently he turned and 
laid it in her lap. 

“ Will you take care of my book for a little 
while ? ” he asked, and with a bow and a smile 
he left her. 

Left alone Bethia opened the book. It was 
George Macdonald’s “At the Back of the 
North Wind.” She turned over the pages, and 
looked curiously at the pictures, and then began 
to read ; soon she forgot everything in her in- 
terest in the story. An hour passed and then 
a shadow darkened her page, and with a little 
start she looked up to meet Mr. Douglas’ amused 
eyes. 

“ Well,” he said, as he sat down beside her, 
“ do you like my book ? ” 


196 ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 

Yes/’ Bethia said, earnestly. 

It must be very pleasant there, at the back 
of the North wind, don’t you think so ? ” he 
asked, smilingly. 

“ If only we could get there,” Bethia said, 
with a little quiver in her voice. 

Mr. Douglas looked at her thoughtfully. He 
had not felt sure that she would understand 
what his question meant, and though his one 
object in bringing that book had been to give 
it to her and watch its influence upon her, 
he had hardly expected that she would ap- 
preciate it or grasp its meaning. It surprised 
him now to see how much it had interested 
her. 

What do you think the North wind stands 
for ? ” he asked, gently. 

Bethia hesitated a little. ‘‘ For all the hard 
things we don’t like in life, doesn’t it ? ” she 
said, in a minute. 

And the back of the North wind, what is 
that ? ” he questioned. 

A beautiful light dawned in Bethia’s eyes. 
“ I thought,” she said, humbly, “ I thought 

that must mean where God was. Only ” 

she paused, it was evidently hard for her to 
finish her sentence. 

Mr. Douglas waited a moment, then he said 
encouragingly, What does ‘ only ’ mean ? ” 


ON THE YACHT, 


197 


“ Only ” Bethia began, stopped, and then 

with an effort said, ‘‘ God is everywhere, isn’t 
he?” 

And what is God ? ” 

“ God is a spirit,” Bethia said, softly. 

And that spirit is Love. And all the things 
you don’t like in life are but the action of that 
Love, working in ways you do not understand. 
Do you see ” — and Mr. Douglas’ grave smile 
seemed very beautiful to Bethia — “ how easy it 
must be for one who believes that to be happy 
and contented in any place ? ” 

Bethia’s lips trembled. “ I have only just be- 
gun. I haven’t got there yet — ” she said, in a 
low voice. 

He understood her. “If you have begun, 
then there is nothing to hinder your going on,” 
he said, gently. 

Bethia did not answer, and Mr. Douglas took 
up the book and asked, “ How far have you 
read ? ” 

“ Only to where North wind sinks the ship,” 
she replied. 

“ Do you understand why Diamond was not 
afraid when he saw North wind do such ter- 
rible things ? ” Mr. Douglas asked. 

“ Because he had been at her back and knew 
that love made her,” Bethia found courage to 
say. 


198 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


And the back of the North wind is the 
heart of God/’ Mr. Douglas said, softly. 

The silence that followed those words seemed 
very sweet to Bethia, and she did not care to 
break it, but in a few moments Mr. Douglas 
said, in a pleased voice : You have grasped 
the meaning of this little story, and I am very 
glad. It is an allegory, that is ” — he explained, 
as he saw that Bethia did not understand the 
word — a fairy story that illustrates a beauti- 
ful, spiritual truth, and it was written by a 
good and gifted man, who wanted to teach us 
that God, who is omnipotent in love, enfolds us 
all in that love, and guards and guides all our 
lives. When we have learned and really be- 
lieve this precious truth, we are like little 
Diamond at the back of the North wind. 
Though houses burn, and storms rave, and 
ships sink, we are not afraid, for we know 
that infinite Love will let no harm befall 
us.” 

“ Does that always make it easy to be con- 
tented ? ” Bethia asked, wishfully. 

Yes,” Mr. Douglas said, “ just so far as we 
trust in and rest in that Love, we are, Ave can- 
not help being, content.” As he spoke he took 
up the book. 

There is a little poem somewhere in this 
book that I want to read to you,” he said. 


ON THE YACHT, 199 

Ah, here it is. Listen, Miss Beth,” and he 
read : 

What would you see if I took you up 
To my little nest in the air ? 

You would see the sky, like a clear, blue cup, 
Turned upside downwards there. 

** What would you do, if I took you there 
To my little nest in the tree ? 

My child with cries would trouble the air 
To get what she could but see. 

“ What would you get in the top of the tree 
For all your crying and grief ? 

Not a star would you clutch of all you see 
You could only gather a leaf. 

‘‘ But when you had lost your greedy grief, 

Content to see from afar ; 

You would find in your hand a withering leaf. 

In your heart a shining star.” 

Do you understand it ? ” Mr. Douglas 
asked, as he closed the book and looked at 
Bethia. 

He was answered first by a bright smile, and 
a quick little nod, and then Bethia said impul- 
sively, ‘‘ I would like to go up into that tree- 
top.” 

But not before God is ready to put you 
there,” he answered, gently. “ Do you not see, 
so long as you cherish a discontented spirit, 


200 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

even in the treetop you would not be happy. 
You would only cry for the stars you could not 
reach.” 

“ But how can I ever be happy in this world, 
if I cannot go up high and reach high things ? ” 
Bethia asked, in a voice that was at once 
troubled and impatient. 

“ Happiness does not come to us from the 
things we hold in our hands, but from the love 
that fills our hearts,” Mr. Douglas said, mus- 
ingly, while the far-away look in his eyes showed 
that for the moment he had forgotten Bethia 
and her simple troubles. 

It was but for a moment, then he turned to 
her with a smile. 

God’s child must be willing to walk in the 
path her Father shows her,” he said, kindly. 
“ She must be willing to work with humble 
things until he please to give her great ones.” 

Bethia looked off at the water in which the 
sunbeams seemed to be playing hide and seek ; 
there was a cloud on her young face, and Mr. 
Douglas saw it, and wisely left her to her own 
refiections. Presently she turned to him and 
extended her hand for the book. 

“ I want to see that last verse,” she said, 
meekly. 

He gave her the book, and at the same time 
in a slow, emphatic voice he repeated : 


ON THE YACHT. 


201 


“ But when you have lost your greedy grief, 
Content to see from afar ; 

You will find in your hand a withering leaf, 

In your heart a shining star.” 

For a moment Bethia was silent and thought- 
ful ; then her face brightened, as if one of the 
playing sunbeams had touched it. 

I begin to see what it means,” she said, 
with lips that smiled, even while they quivered 
slightly. “ My greedy grief is my discontent.” 

And the withering leaf in your hand, the 
things that have no lasting power to make you 

happy. And the shining star •” Mr. Douglas 

paused. “ What is that. Miss Beth ? ” he asked, 
in a moment. 

“ I know,” Bethia answered, softly. “ It is — 
what is at the back of the North wind.” 

“ The Love that satisfies all our longings,” he 
said, giving words to the thought she did not 
know how to express. 

“.Yes,” Bethia whispered, “ that is what I 
think it means.” 

He looked at her searchingly for an instant. 
Then he asked, gently, “ Do you want that star, 
Miss Beth ? ” 

“ Ye — es,” Bethia said, slowly, “ but ” — with 
a sudden determination to speak the whole 
truth — “ I want the leaf, too.” 

“ Beth,” Mrs. Power called just then, “ come 


202 


ON LONNMAN^S ISLAND. 


here. Mrs. Gordon is teaching me a new 
crochet-stitch, and I want you to learn it.” 

Without a word Bethia obeyed her mother, 
and an hour later they found themselves once 
more on Loneman’s Island. 

“ I am not quite satisfied with this day’s ex- 
perience,” Mrs. Gordon said that evening to 
her brother. “ I did not see as much of Bethia 
as I wanted to. You had quite a long talk 
with her, Allan. What did you find out about 
her ? ” 

That she will bear polishing,” Mr. Douglas 
answered. 

Well, how is that polishing to be given 
her ? ” 

“ I haven’t learned that — ^yet,” he rephed, 
quietly. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


I MUST GO. 

“ I cannot think but God must know 
About the thing I long for so. 

I know he is so good, so kind, 

I cannot think but he will find 
Some way to help, some way to show 
Me to the thing I long for so,” 

Helen Hunt Jackson, 

TT was the afternoon of a radiant but very 
^ warm August day. Even on Loneman’s 
Island the heat was oppressive, and the slum- 
berous silence, that so often accompanies a hot 
afternoon in the country, was unbroken by any 
sound save the roll of the great ocean that 
never rests and never tires. 

In the full light of the brilliant sunshine, 
Bethia sat on the little piazza that ran across 
the front of the lighthouse. The door leading 
into the wide hall stood open. Just inside 
Mrs. Power sat with her sewing. It vfks her 
favorite resort when her work for the day was 
done, and she could sit down for a brief and 
well-earned rest. 


203 


204 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 


‘‘ Bethia,” she said, breaking a silence that 
had lasted many minutes, ‘^what makes you 
stay out there in the sun, without your sun- 
bonnet. You will be as brown and freckled as 
a turkey’s egg if you don’t take better care of 
your complexion.” 

Bethia did not stir. ‘‘ I am thinking, 
mother,” she said, dreamily. 

“Thinking. Well, in order to think, is it 
necessary for you to burn and tan ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” Bethia answered, in the 
same dreamy tone ; but the next minute she 
sprang up, and lifting her chair carried it into 
the hall, and sat down beside Mrs. Power. 

“ Mother,” she asked, “ are we very poor 
people ? ” 

“Depends upon what you mean by very 
poor,” Mrs. Power replied, in her usual com- 
posed voice. 

“ Why, I mean — ” Bethia thought a mo- 
ment. “I don’t mean are we beggars. Of 
course I don’t mean that, mother, but I mean 
have we any money ? more than we need to 
live on, you know ? ” 

“Your father gets a pretty good salary,” 
Mrs. Power remarked, calmly. 

“ How much ? Tell me, please, mother.” 

Mrs. Power seemed in no haste to ansAver 
her daughter. She threaded her needle, and 


I MUST GO, 


205 


knotted the end of her thread, while Bethia 
watched her and wondered impatiently if she 
did not mean to answer her question. Pres- 
ently, as she slowly began to baste down a 
hem, she said : 

“ Seems to me you are wonderfully interested 
in money to-day, Bethia. I never knew you to 
think so much about it before. However I 
don’t know but it is quite time that you should 
know something about our affairs. You are 
old enough to be trusted, and you wouldn’t be 
your father’s child if you didn’t know how to 
keep your own counsel. So I don’t mind an- 
swering your question. Tour father’s salary 
is one hundred dollars a month.” 

Bethia made a hurried calculation. That 
is twelve hundred a year,” she said, eagerly. 
‘‘ Mother, we don’t begin to spend that money. 
I am sure we don’t. Hasn’t father got a good 
deal in the bank ? ” 

“Ho,” Mrs. Power answered, gravely. 
“ Tour father hasn’t any money in any bank.” 

“ But we can’t spend all that money living 
on this island,” Bethia said, emphatically. 
“What does father do with all he saves, 
mother ?•” ^ 

Mrs. Power did not answer. Calmly and 
deliberately she went on with her sewing, but 
with every stitch her face grew more thought- 


206 ON L ON EM AN ’ S ISLAND. 

ful. After a while she said : Bethia, I believe 
you ought to be told something about your 
father’s early life.” 

believe so, too,” Bethia said, quickly. 
‘‘ If father has any history, that isn’t connected 
with this out-of-the-way old island, do tell it to 
me, mother.” 

“ You needn’t ever be ashamed of your 
father’s history,” Mrs. Power answered, with 
some pride. He was a faithful soldier and 
earned a good name for himself in the army 
during the Civil War. That was why the 
Government gave him charge of this light- 
house.” 

A pretty way for the Government to show 
its gratitude,” Bethia said, with a disdainful 
toss of her girlish head. “ I think it might 
have found a better way. I know if I had 
been father I shouldn’t have felt very grateful 
to the Government when it sent me to this 
lonesome island, where there is nothing but 
sand and water, and no company but the sea 
gulls.” 

Mrs. Power looked at her young daughter 
and half smiled ; but her voice was grave as 
she said : 

“ If you had been in your father’s place you 
would have felt as he did. He was grateful.” 

“ I don’t see what for,” Bethia insisted. 


I MUST GO. 207 

‘‘Well, before be came here — before the Avar, I 
mean, Avhere Avas father then ? ” 

“ In Hopedale, a beautiful old town, a good 
many hundred miles from here. He was born 
and grew up there, and his home was a very 
comfortable one.” 

“ Then why did he leave it ? ” Bethia in- 
quired, in a tone that expressed both curiosity 
and disapproval. 

“ Because circumstances he could not control 
obliged him to leave,” Mrs. Power answered, 
soberly. 

Bethia felt the influence of her mother’s 
serious manner. She waited a minute, and 
then, in a subdued voice, she said : 

“ I thought you were going to tell me father’s 
history, mother.” 

“ His history can be told in a few words,” 
Mrs. Power said, thoughtfully. “ It is always 
easy to tell the outward history — the happen- 
ings — of any life. It is the influence of the 
things that happen to us, that really makes us 
what we are, and that, Bethia, you wiU un- 
derstand better when you are older.” 

“ Yes, mother,” Bethia said, meekly, and 
Mrs. Power went on. 

“ Your father belonged to a poor, but highly- 
respected, family in Hopedale. Everybody 
liked the Powers, and at the same time every- 


208 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 


body felt sorry for them. They never seemed 
to see an opportunity to make money until 
after some one else had seen it and taken ad- 
vantage of it, and if they did engage in any 
business it was always sure to bring them 
nothing but hard work. They managed to 
rub along, but they never knew anything but 
hard times, and they never accumulated any 
property. That you understand, Bethia, was 
your father’s father’s family.” 

Bethia nodded. “Yes, I understand,” she 
said, impatiently. 

“ On the other hand,” Mrs. Power continued, 
‘^your father’s mother belonged to a family 
that in Hopedale was considered very rich. 
Her own mother was dead, she was an only 
daughter, and she had two half-brothers. Her 
father did not approve of her marriage ; he was 
always kind to her, but he never took much 
notice of her husband or her little child. She 
died when David — your father — was only two 
years old, the next year her husband — your 
father’s father — died ; then David went to live 
with one of his uncles. When he was five 
years old his grandfather — his mother’s father 
— died. He left a handsome property, but to 
the surprise of everybody he left it all to his 
two sons. His daughter’s child, little David, 
was not even mentioned in his will.” 


I MUST GO. 


209 


Wasn’t that very strange?” Bethia asked. 

“ Yes, it was strange, but he was an old man ; 
his daughter displeased him when she married 
one of the poor Powers, and his two sons had 
great influence over him. Men often make such 
unjust wills, make them in this world to gratify 
some childish resentment, and then, perhaps, 
repent of them in that other world where noth- 
ing they have ever done can be undone. 

“ Poor father,” Bethia said, sympathetically. 

What was done about it, mother ? ” 

“ Nothing,” Mrs. Power said, in a grave voice. 

There was nobody to stand for David’s rights, 
and of course he was too young to realize that 
he had been unjustly treated. He lived on with 
his uncle, an unmarried man, who was very 
kind to him. He always said that David was 
to be his heir, and once he told some of his 
neighbors that he had made his will in his 
favor, but when he died no will could be 
found.” 

Mrs. Power paused to thread her needle, and 
Bethia drew a long breath. 

“ What did father do ? ” she asked, in a tone 
that showed her impatience to hear the whole 
story. 

“ He submitted to what he could not help,” 
Mrs. Power answered, soberly. ‘‘ His other 
uncle, a grasping, miserly man, came into pos- 
14 


210 OJSf LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

session of the property and cast David off with- 
out a dollar.” 

“ That was a mean thing,” Bethia exclaimed, 
with a bitter emphasis on her adjective. “ W ell 
go on, mother. What did father do then ? ” 

Mrs. Power hesitated. There was a pained 
expression in her face, and she seemed reluct- 
ant to continue her story. Presently with an 
evident effort she said: “I cannot tell you 
much more now, Beth, only I will just explain 
why we have lived here all these years.” 

“ There ought to be a very good reason for 
that,” Bethia said, impulsively. “ It does seem 
to me that only crazy people, or people in dis- 
grace, would be willing to bury themselves on 
this out-of-the-world island for fifteen years.” 

“ Bethia ! ” 

Bethia started : she had never heard her 
mother’s voice sound as it did then. “ Mother,” 
she exclaimed, “ what is the matter ? You 
frighten me.” 

There is nothing the matter,” Mrs. Power 
said, in a moment ; and then in her usual quiet 
tone she went on : 

Just before the Civil War began we were 
married ; and then your father borrowed some 
money, and bought a store that promised him 
a good business. I was an orphan, with no 
near relations. I had inherited a little money, 


I MUST GO. 


211 


and your father used that. I wanted him to 
use it, Bethia, for I loved him and I longed to 
help him. For a little while things looked prom- 
ising ; but the times were hard, the war broke 
out, and he failed — failed for a good many thou- 
sands of dollars.” 

Something like a sob broke Mrs. Power’s 
voice now, and it told, without the aid of words, 
how keen must have been the suffering of that 
long-past time. 

Bethia looked at her mother in wonder. 

Failed,” she repeated, “ does that mean that 
he lost all his money, mother ? ” 

“Yes, all that he had borrowed and more, 
Bethia. He was absolutely penniless now, and 
he was in debt, too. He owed thousands of 
dollars.” 

Bethia had been brought up to regard a debt 
one could not pay as but little better than a 
crime. 

“ In debt,” she repeated, in a frightened 
voice. “O mother, how dreadful that was. 
What did he do ? ” 

“ What every honest man does,” Mrs. Power 
said, proudly. “ He resolved, if he lived, to pay 
every dollar he owed, and all these years he 
has been working to do so. His health was 
poor when the war was over, and he left the 
army. He hadn’t strength enough to do any 


212 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

hard work, either of mind or body, and that 
was why he was glad to come here.” 

^‘ And that was fifteen years ago,” Bethia 
said, in a tone that told plainly how long those 
years looked to her. 

“ Yes, but it doesn’t seem so long to me,” 
Mrs. Power said, calmly. “We have been 
happy here. We have lived comfortably and 
your father has regained his health. He has 
been able, too, to save a good deal of money ; 
but his savings have all gone to pay his debts. 
He would scorn to put money in the bank 
while there was one man in the whole world 
who had the right to say to him : ‘ Pay me that 
thou owest me.’ ” 

Bethia’s face flushed, and her dark eyes 
flashed. “That is splendid,” she cried. “I 
think my father is a grand, good man, mother.” 

“You ought to think so,” Mrs. Power said, 
warmly. “ He has been a good, kind father 
always to you, Bethia.” 

“I know he has, and I love him dearly,” 
Bethia said, in a tender, earnest voice. 

“ I believe you do,” Mrs. Power answered ; 
“ but, Bethia, you pain him very much some- 
times, when you seem discontented and un- 
happy, and talk about wanting to leave the 
island.” 

There were tears in Bethia’s eyes, and for a 


I MUST GO. 


213 


few seconds something seemed to choke her, 
and she swallowed hard. ‘‘ Mother,” she said, 
pleadingly, as soon as she could speak, “ I love 
my father and I love you. Yes,” she repeated, 
‘‘I do love you both dearly, dearly. But, 
mother, I cannot make myself love this out-of- 
the-world island. I must say it — I do want to 
go away. I want to go where I can have 
books, and teachers, and a chance to make 
something of myself. This island is no place 
for me. Mother,” — and the young voice was 
thrilling in its earnestness — “don’t you feel 
yourself that it is no place for me ? ” 

“ It is your home, Bethia. Isn’t home al- 
ways the best place for a young girl ? ” 

“I don’t know,” the girl answered, sadly. 
“ I think that must depend upon the kind of a 
home she has, mother. This is a good, com- 
fortable home, I know that — ^but — it shuts me 
in, and I want room to grow.” 

“ What do you want to do, Bethia ? ” Mrs. 
Power spoke in a grieved but thoughtful voice. 

“I don’t know, mother. Before I can do 
anything to help myself I must learn how to 
do. Mother ” — with a sudden change of tone — 
“ would you and father let me go away — for a 
while — if I could get a -good chance? ” 

Mrs. Power sighed heavily. “ I won’t say 
no, Bethia,” she said, gently. “ Good chances 


214 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

always come from the Lord, I believe, and if it 
is meant that you should go — why I suppose 
you will have to go. But, O Bethia,” — and 
the mother’s voice trembled with the longing in 
the mother’s heart — “ do try to be happy here.” 

Bethia left her seat beside her mother and 
went out on the piazza. The afternoon was no 
longer hot nor silent. A strong wind was lash- 
ing the ocean, and the great waves were break- 
ing tumultuously on the beach. The girl stood 
and watched them for some minutes. Her 
young heart was restless and full of impatient 
yearnings, and the tossing waves, as they swept 
boisterously lairdward, seemed to her like ex- 
tended arms, crying, “ Come.” 

I must go,” she said to herself, and then 
she turned and went quickly back to her 
mother. 

“ Mother,” she said, as she sat down on the 
floor, and laid her bright head in Mrs. Power’s 
lap, “ I will try to be happy as long as I have 
to stay here, and you must not think that I am 
unhappy; for I can’t really be that with you and 
my father. But — if I can get a good chance 
— to go away — and learn some of the things I 
want to know so much — you will promise to 
let me go, and not feel very sorry,— won’t you, 
mother? ” 

That young, pathetic, eager voice. Its plead- 


I MUST GO. 


215 


ings almost broke her mother’s heart, ’but 
Mrs. Power could neither chide nor resist it. 
She brushed away a few unselfish tears — such 
tears as none but mothers ever shed — and then, 
while her fingers played fondly with Bethia’s 
soft curls, she said : 

“ Your good has always been my first object, 
Bethia. I never have stood in the way of any- 
thing that promised to benefit you, and I never 
will.” Yery solemnly were the last two words 
spoken, and then the true, deep mother-heart 
overflowed, and, clasping her daughter in her 
arms, she whispered : “ God bless you, dear. 
He will keep you safe, if I cannot.” 

Bethia could not speak — she had gained what 
she wanted, but she could not rejoice. She 
clung to her mother, as if already the parting 
hour had come, and for a few sad moments all 
was still in the little hall. Then Mrs. Power 
gently pushed the girl away, and in her usual, 
calm voice, said : 

^^Come, Bethia, it is almost supper time.” 
And quietly — as if they had not just lived 
through one of life’s tenderest hours — mother 
and daughter went about their accustomed 
tasks. 

It was eight o’clock that evening before their 
last duties for that day were over, and their 
little kitchen put in perfect order for the next 


216 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 


morning. Then Mrs. Power went wearily to 
her room, but for some time after her mother 
retired Bethia continued to move restlessly 
about the house. 

That afternoon, while talking with her 
mother, she had suddenly thought of a way by 
w^hich all the obstacles, that seemed to her like 
locked doors imprisoning her on Loneman’s 
Island, might be overcome. She had resolved 
to try that way. It had seemed as if it would 
be very easy to try it while she was only dream- 
ing about it ; but now that the hour had come 
for action, she found like many another 
dreamer, that to j)lan was far easier than to 
perform. 

For a time she faltered ; then nerving her- 
self for what was, she began to fear, a hope- 
less venture, she went to her room, exchanged 
her plain calico dress for a simple white one, 
and smoothed down her fluffy hair, then with 
a beating heart she stole silently out of the 
house, and walked to Job’s cottage. There the 
lights were still burning brightly in all the 
rooms. Bethia stood and looked at them a 
moment, and then, with the feeling that to re- 
treat now would be to lose the opportunity she 
so much Avanted, she Avent resolutely up to the 
front door. It Avas open and Mr. Gordon Avas 
sitting near it in the hall. 


I MUST GO, 


217 


« Why, Miss Bethia,” he said, in surprise as 
she stopped timidly before him, what is the 
matter ? ” 

“ Nothing,” Bethia said, nervously. “ I want 
to see Mrs. Gordon.” 

Come in, and I will find Mrs. Gordon. I 
think she is in the dining room,” Mr. Gordon 
said, kindly. 

I know the way,” Bethia said, with a 
great fear that she might have to explain her 
errand in his presence ; and brushing by him 
she hurried to the dining room. There, too, the 
door was standing open. Bethia crossed the 
'threshold and^hen paused. The little fairy 
lamp just brightened the dusk of the room, and 
peering forward Bethia saw Mrs. Gordon sit- 
ting in a low chair near an open window. 
With a noiseless but quick step the young girl 
w*ent to the lady’s side. 

“Mrs. Gordon,” she said, in a tremulous 
whisper. 

Mrs. Gordon started and looked around, then 
she smiled and extended her hand. 

“ Why, Bethia,” she said, “ I Avas just think- 
ing that this Avas a night for visions, but I did 
not hope to see you. Take this chair” — and 
she laid her hand on one near her — “ I am very 
glad to see you. What have you been doing 
all this warm day ? ” 


218 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

^^I’ve been thinking,” Bethiasaid, nervously, 
as she dropped into the, chair. “ Mrs. Gordon, 
I have come to ask a great kindness of you.” 

“ It will be an impossible kindness if I refuse 
it,” Mrs. Gordon said, sweetly. I oAve a great 
deal to your parents and yourself, Bethia.” 

Do you ? ” Bethia said, with a child’s sim- 
plicity. I haven’t heard father say so.” 

The sweet, amused laugh that followed 
Bethia’s innocent remark was quickly checked. 

Tell me what I can do for you,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, gently. I am ready to do anything in 
my power.” 

Bethia turned and looked earnestly at Mrs. 
Gordon. The soft light just touched the young 
face with its tremulous lips and eager eyes. 

Mrs. Gordon,” she said, quickly, ‘‘ I want 
to go u.way from Loneman’s Island.” 

“ What,” Mrs. Gordon exclaimed, “ go aAvay 
from your parents and your home ! Oh no, 
Bethia, you do not want to do that.” 

“ But I do,” the girl insisted. Mrs. Gordon, 
think of this — I am sixteen years old and I know 
nothing. I can do nothing — except housework,” 
she added, as an afterthought. 

“Don’t despise housework, Bethia,” Mrs. 
Gordon said, gravely. 

“ I don’t,” Bethia said, with emphasis. “ I 
am willing to do housework, Mrs. Gordon, but 


I MUST GO, 219 

isn’t it right for me to want to know about 
other things ? ” 

‘‘ What other things do you want to know 
about, Bethia ? ” Mrs. Gordon’s voice was still 
very grave and quiet. 

‘‘ What other things ? ” Bethia echoed. O 
Mrs. Gordon, I can’t tell you. I want to know 
something about everything ; I want to read — 
I want to study. Sometimes I am so hungry 
for books and teachers that I feel as if I were 
starving. Is it wrong for me to feel so ? Is it 
wrong for me to want to go where I can have 
a chance to study. Then why has God made 
me so, Mrs. Gordon. Why has he given me a 
hunger in my heart that never, never, never can 
be satisfied here on Loneman’s Island. 

You poor child ! ” The compassionate 
words trembled on Mrs. Gordon’s lips, but she 
suppressed them. Bethia,” she said, seriously, 
you are very young, and you are your par- 
ents’ only child. Have you thought how lonely 
their life will be if you leave them ? ” 

“Yes,” Bethia said, with a sigh, I have 
thought of that a great many times.” 

“ And yet you can bear to leave them ? ” 

“ I must,” the girl said, tearfully. 

Yes, it was true. She must go. Mrs. Gor- 
don began to see that behind the girl’s undis- 
ciplined impulses and longings there was a 


220 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

Providence working, whose purposes could not 
be thwarted. She did not speak for a little 
while, and Bethia waited and cried silently, but 
presently she said : 

You have told me what you want to do, 
Bethia ; now can you tell me what you can do. 
I mean how* you could support yourself if you 
left your home ? ” 

“ I have thought of that,” Bethia said, humbly. 
“ I am willing to work, Mrs. Gordon, and I 
have thought that perhaps I could find — some- 
where — a place where I could make the bread 
— I can make good bread, for mother’s taught 
me — and do other things, and yet have time to 
study, and go to school. Don’t you think I 
might find such a place ? ” and with her eyes 
full of wishful longings the girl looked at Mrs. 
Gordon. 

That lady was considering many things. 
“Could your father help you, Bethia?” she 
asked soon. 

“No, Mrs. Gordon. I will never ask him to 
help me,” Bethia said, firmly. “ He lost all his 
money years ago — mother told me about it 
this afternoon — and now he saves all his salary 
to pay his debts. No, father must not help 
me. I must help him just as soon as I can.” 

Bethia said this with her tearful eyes bent 
on the fioor. If she had looked up and seen 


I MUST GO. 


221 


Mrs. Gordon’s smile she might have felt that it 
was full of hopeful auguries. Mrs. Gordon’s 
interest was fully awakened now. She felt 
that there were not only beautiful possibilities 
and probabilities, but beautiful actualities also 
in the character of the uneducated and un- 
formed girl beside her. 

“ Bethia,” she said, in a voice that was almost 
tender in its gentleness, “ I am glad you have 
trusted me, and come to me, and told me your 
wishes. I cannot say positively to-night in 
what way I will help you. I must have a little 
time to consider, but before I leave this island 
you shall know what I can do.” 

Bethia sprang up. I cannot thank you, to- 
night,” she said, impulsively. I don’t know 
how to thank you, but, O Mrs. Gordon, I will 
never forget your kindness, and if I live — I 
will thank you.” And then unable to say 
or hear more the excited girl left the room, 
and in another instant was out of the house. 

There was a little rustle in the dining room 
now, the afghan slipped from the lounge be- 
hind Mrs. Gordon’s chair, and Mr. Douglas sat 
up, and leaning forward rested his hand on his 
sister’s shoulder. 

“ I hope you have had a pleasant nap, Allan,” 
she said, as she turned her head and looked at 
him. 


222 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


He shook his head smilingly, I haven’t been 
sleeping, Katharine, though perhaps I have been 
dreaming,” he said. “ I believe I was dozing a 
little when that poor girl came in, and then, 
when I became fully conscious, she was talking 
so earnestly that I could not bear to disturb 
and embarrass her by announcing my presence. 
It seemed the truest kindness not to speak.” 

“Well?” Mrs. Gordon’s little interrogative 
seemed addressed more to his unspoken thought 
than to anything he had said. 

“ I have been greatly interested,” he quietly 
acknowledged. 

“ Do you think I did right, Allan ? I mean in 
the way I left the question undecided. I was 
strongly tempted to tell her that I would de- 
fray all her expenses.” 

“ Why didn’t you ? ” 

“Because I had too much respect for her 
parents and her own independence. She will 
be happier if she helps herself, I think, don’t 
you ? ” 

“Yes,” he said, quietly, “I think you are 
right. What are you going to do for her, 
Katharine?” 

“ I don’t quite know. There is the high 
school in our town. If I can find a good home 
for her, I may place her there. It would 
never do to take her from this secluded home 


I MUST GO, 


228 


and put her in a boarding school, that would be 
like expecting a bird with clipped wings to fly 
with carrier pigeons. No, she must have a quiet 
nest somewhere — at first.” 

If she must have it, it is probably ready for 
her,” Mr. Douglas said. 

“ Yes, I hope it is. I feel as if a great re- 
sponsibility had suddenly been laid upon me, 
Allan.” 

Yes,” he gravely assented. Then his face 
brightened, as it always did when he had a 
helpful thought, and he said, Kesponsibilities 
are not always pleasant when we first feel their 
weight, Katharine, but afterward — if we are 
faithful — there comes a time when our burdens 
assume a new form and we know them to be 
crowns.” 


CHAPTEE XIV. 


KNOWING HER OPPORTUNITY. 

“ It’s no in titles nor in rank ; 

It’s no in wealth like Lon’on bank, 

To purchase peace and rest ; 

It’s no in makin’ muckle mair ; 

It’s no in books, it’s no in lear. 

To make us truly blest ; 

If happiness has not her seat 
And centre in the breast 

We may be wise, or rich, or great. 

But never can be blest. 

Nae treasures, nor pleasures. 

Could make us happy lang ; 

The heart’s ay the part ay 
That makes us right or wrang.” 

Robert Bums, 

rpHAT same evening, while Bethia was talk- 
ing with Mrs. Gordon, Miss Brisk, after 
sitting with Donald until the gates that lead 
into slumber-land had closed behind him, 
strolled across the dunes and went down to the 
surf. It was a wonderful night ; the moon- 
light lay like a golden glory on the restless 
waves, and the very loneliness and vastness of 
the beach gave it a strange and weird charm. 

224 


KNOWING HER OPPORTUNITY. 


225 


Drawing her light shawl around her, for the 
sea breeze Avas a little cool, Miss Brisk walked 
dreamily along by the edge of the Avater. 
Presently she came to the great boat that Cap- 
tain Power always kept on the beach, “ because,” 
as he said, “ it was having things within reach 
that made them of any use in emergencies.” 

‘‘ I believe I Avill get in and rest awhile here,” 
Miss Brisk thought, as she laid her hand on the 
side of the boat. 

Just then some one in the bottom of the boat 
stirred, and the next instant a man’s head ap- 
peared, and a pair of mild blue eyes looked up 
at Miss Brisk. She started nervously, and then 
laughed as she recognized Job. 

« Why, Mr. F uller,” she said. “ Are you here ? 
I didn’t know that you were so romantic.” 

“ ’Pears to me I ain’t the only romantic per- 
son on this beach,” Job said, as he clambered 
out of the boat. 

“ Well, no, perhaps you are not,” Miss Brisk 
confessed, laughingly. “ You see, Mr. Fuller, 
the moonlight is so beautiful that it really 
seemed a sin to go to bed and shut my eyes to 
it, and so I thought I would come down here 
Avhere I could see it in all its splendor. It is 
splendid, don’t you think so ? ” she said, Avith 
animation ; “ or are you so used to seeing it on 
the ocean that you don’t think much about it ? ” 

15 


/ 


226 ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 

Job was standing now by her side. “ Would- 
n’t you like to sit down in this boat ? ” he 
asked, without answering her question. 

“Why, yes, that is just what I thought I 
would do before I saw you,” Miss Brisk replied. 

“ Then you can do it now you’ve seen me,” 
J ob said, with a laugh ; and with awkward but 
kind hands he helped her into the boat. 

“ I don’t exactly know what you mean by 
being used to seeing the moonlight,” Job said, 
after Miss Brisk and he were comfortably 
seated. “ Why, it seems to me that it’s one of 
the things we never can get used to, because — 
don’t you see — it’s something we can’t make 
ourselves. There’s a kind of power and glory 
in it, you know, and every time we see it, I think 
it comes like a kind of new revelation ” 

“ Of what? ” Miss Brisk asked, as Job stopped 
without concluding his sentence. 

“ Of God,” he said, solemnly. 

Miss Brisk looked off at the sea of molten 
gold: light words, said just for the sake of 
talking, seemed out of place just then. 

“ You are a good man, Mr. Fuller,” she 
said, sincerely, in a minute. 

“ I don’t know,” Job said, humbly. “ Good 
is what we all ought to be, but I ain’t got no 
goodness to be proud of, I knqw that.” 

“ I should think your friends would be proud 









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KNOWING HER OPPORTUNITY. 


227 


of you, at any rate,” Miss Brisk said, encourag- 
ingly. Have you a mother and sisters, Mr. 
Fuller?” 

“Ho, I haven’t nobody,” Job said, in a sad 
voice. “ You see I came across the ocean when 
I was a very little boy — jest my mother an’ 
me. We left all who had ever belonged to us 
sleeping in the old churchyard in the Father- 
land. My mother didn’t live long. People are 
a good deal like trees, I think — a great many 
die when you try to transplant them. W ell,” — 
with a mournful sigh — “ mother went and I was 
left, and sense then I’ve always been alone.” 

Miss Brisk looked at him, and in the moon- 
light her face seemed to Job the kindest and 
best he had ever seen. 

“ You must have had a hard time,” she said, 
in a voice full of sympathy. 

“It’s been a good deal like them waves — 
plenty of toss an’ tumble,” Job said, calmly. 

“ What did you do ? ” Miss Brisk asked, as 
he paused. 

“Well, I rubbed along in the world, like 
most poor boys who don’t know what home an’ 
friends mean, I s’pose, until the war came, an’ 
then I jined the army. That wasn’t a pleasant 
thing to do — cause I ain’t never had no taste for 
fightin’ — but it seemed a necessary thing, ’cause 
every man that adopts a country is bound in 


228 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 

honor to be true to it, I think. Well, I was 
fortunate in the army, it Avas there I met the 
Cap’n. He an’ me grew to be good friends, 
an’ after the war Ave made up our minds that 
Ave’d jest go on standin’ shoulder to shoulder, 
an’ so when he came to Loneman’s Island I 
came along with him. That’s about all my 
hist’ry, ma’am,” and Job smiled contentedly as 
he finished his story. 

“ You’ve lived here a good many years, I sup- 
pose,” Miss Brisk said, in an interested voice. 

“ Yes, a good many years,” Job said, quietly. 

And you haven’t ever grown tired of living 
here ? ” 

“ Ho,” Job said, with emphasis. 

Hor lonely ? ” Miss Brisk continued. 

Job laughed. ^^It ain’t very easy to feel 
lonely, when you haAm the great Atlantic Ocean 
for company,” he said. “ An’ then, you knoAv, 
I have the Cap’n’s family. Me and them have 
ahvays been good friends.” 

“ So you really are satisfied and have every- 
thing you want,” Miss Brisk said, in a voice 
that Avas very gentle, and seemed to inAute full 
confidence. 

Job did not answer immediately. “I am 
pretty well satisfied,” he said, at last. “ You see 
I’ve a great deal to be thankful for. Steady 
work is a blessin’ a good many men don’t have ; 


KNOWING HER OPPORTUNITY. 229 

and a comfortable home ain’t a thing a man 
ought to be dissatisfied with ; but when you ask 
if I have got everything I want, why, then, 
I do suppose, if I own the truth, that I have 
got to answer, no. There is always something 
out of reach in every man’s life, I calc’late, 
don’t you ? ” 

‘^Well, I don’t know,” Miss Brisk said, 
slowly. It is my belief that a man can gen- 
erally get what he wants, if he will only make 
an effort and reach high enough.” 

Job looked off at the glowing ocean for a few 
moments, then, with a sober shake of his head, 
he said : 1 ain’t quite sure that I agree with 

you. Miss Brisk. Most men want heaven, 
but they can’t reach it — not in this life, any- 
way.” 

“ Some men would get a good deal nearer 
heaven, even in this life, if they would only 
make an effort and reach for it,” Miss Brisk 
said, emphatically. “ What is this island like 
in winter, Mr. Fuller ? ” she asked, the next 
instant. 

“ It’s jest like its name,” Job answered. “ It 
is shut away from all the rest of the world, 
and it’s cold, and black, with plenty of snow 
and ice, and not much else, except great winds 
and rough seas. But then, you know, we keep 
great fires burnin’ all the time. And we are 


230 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


strong, and don’t mind the cold; and every 
night, when we light the lamp up there in the 
tower, we feel that we are doin’ something to 
help our fellow-men — a little bit of God’s work 
it seems like, you know — and so the winter 
isn’t a dreary time after all.” 

‘‘ I don’t believe you ever would find any 
place or time dreary,” Miss Brisk said, warmly. 
“ Well,” she added, in a moment, I would like 
to see this island in the winter. Do you live 
in your own house then, Mr. Fuller ? ” 

“ No,” Job answered, his cheerful voice a 
little sobered. “ You see, Miss Brisk,” he 
continued confidentially, that is jest where I 
fall short of bein’ satisfied with myself. It 
don’t seem quite right — does it now? — for a 
man to have a good house an’ never make a 
pleasant home in it for — somebody.” 

Miss Brisk’s answer was not as prompt as 
usual. For a few seconds she looked down 
and played nervously with the fringe of her 
shawl. Then, suddenly, in a clear, quick voice, 
she asked : 

« Why don’t you do it, then ? ” 

Job looked a little perplexed. That ain’t 
an easy question to answer,” he said, meekly. 
“1 s’pose — now I think on it — there ain’t no 
partickler reason, only — I ain’t never found 
courage.” 


KNOWING BEE OPPORTUNITY. 231 

Miss Brisk laughed nervously. “ After all,” 
she said, “it wouldn’t be you that made the 
home, Mr. Fuller. She — I mean somebody — 
would have to make it for you.” 

“That’s so,” Job acknowledged in a humble 
voice, “ and you see that’s jest my trouble. I 
ain’t never felt sure that she — somebody, you 
know — would want to make it for me.” 

Miss Brisk hesitated, but in a moment, with 
a little laugh, she said : “You might at least 
give — somebody a chance to say what she 
would or would not like to do.” 

“ I s’pose I might,” Job admitted, “but you 
see — I don’t — know — how.” 

Miss Brisk twisted her shawl fringe until it 
broke ; then she looked at Job, and in the bright 
moonlight studied his plain, unsuspicious, good- 
natured face for a few moments, and then, in 
a voice that she made a determined effort to 
keep steady and composed, she said : 

“ If I were you, Mr. Fuller, I would begin 
by asking — somebody if she would like to live 
on this island.” 

“Ye-es,” Job said, in a slow, considerate 
tone ; “ but s’pose she should jest say, no. 
See here ” — and he looked smilingly at Miss 
Brisk — “ s’pose I asked you that question, what 
would you say ? ” 

“Why, I should say. Yes; I would lil^e it 


232 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


very much,” Miss Brisk answered, a little trem- 
ulously. 

“ Would you? Well, now I must own that 
that’s encouragin’,” Job said, in a pleased voice. 
‘‘ But now — I don’t know what I ought to say 
next. S’pose you help me agin — what would 
you ask now ? ” 

Miss Brisk took a little tinie to consider that 
question. ‘^Why, I think I Avould speak of 
your cottage,” she said soon. “ I would ask 
her if she would like to live in it.” 

“ Ye-es,” Job said, that would be a neces- 
sary question, ’cause if she didn’t want to live 
in it, there’d be nothin’ more to say. Well, 
Miss Brisk, if you don’t mind, I would like to 
know how you Avould answer that question. 
Would you like to live in my house, do you 
think ? ” 

Miss Brisk’s voice and laugh were both a 
little excited but her answer was very decided. 
“Yes,” she said, “I’m sure I would like 
it. Your cottage is very convenient, and I 
know I could make a very pleasant home in 
it.” 

“ Could you ? ” Job exclaimed, in a glad tone. 
“Well, now, I wonder if you would like a car- 
pet with red roses on the parlor floor. You 
see that’s what I’ve always thought I’d like to 
have.” 


KNOWING HER OPPORTUNITY. 233 

I think it would be lovely. I like roses 
anywhere,” Miss Brisk declared. 

“ It ain’t easy to make ’em grow on this is- 
land,” Job said, regretfully. “ But you know, 
when we have ’em in a carpet it ain’t very hard 
to make believe that we’ve jest dropped ’em, 
an’ they’re real. Well,” he Avent on, in an 
eager voice, “ if somebody said that she would 
like to live in my house, what would you advise 
me to say next ? ” 

Miss Brisk’s laugh sounded almost hyster- 
ical. “ Oh, you good-hearted, simpleton,” she 
cried, “ can’t you think what to ask next ? 
Why — of course — ^you must ask if she would 
like to live with you ? ” 

Job shook his head. “ I calc’late that ques- 
tion would be the settler,” he said, dolefully. 
“ It ain’t likely now that she would want to 
live with me. Is it. Miss Brisk ? ” 

Miss Brisk breathed as if she were suffering 
from palpitation of the heart ; but though her 
A^oice shook a little, her words were very posi- 
tive. “ It isn’t easy, under all circumstances, 
to say what people you don’t knoAv would 
like,” she said, “ but I might give you my oAvn 
opinion if — you asked for it.” 

Did it lighten just then ? Job half fancied 
that it did, his simple mind and heart were 
both so suddenly illuminated. He leaned to- 


234 ON L ON EM AN ’ S ISLAND. 

wards Miss Brisk, and laid his warm, honest 
hand on hers. 

I do ask for it,” he said, earnestly. Miss 
Brisk, would you like to live here — in my house 
— with me ? ” 

Something suspiciously like a tear glistened 
in Miss Brisk’s eyes, but there was no note of 
sadness nor of doubt in her voice. You great, 
blessed innocent,” she said, with a low laugh, 
that only seemed to give tender emphasis to 
her words. Yes, of course, I would like it — 
better than anything else in the world.” 

The next morning, while Mrs. Gordon and 
Miss Brisk were sitting together in the little 
parlor. Miss Brisk suddenly broke a silence 
that had lasted some minutes, by exclaiming. 

Well, I do wonder what Jemima will say.” 

About what ? ” Mrs. Gordon asked, care- 
lessly. 

“ Why, about the news I’ve got to tell her. 
I am not going home to live ever again, Mrs. 
Gordon.” 

Mrs. Gordon stared in blank astonishment at 
her faithful friend. “ Why, Betty,” she said, 

what do you mean, what are you going to 
do?” 

“ Stay here,” Miss Brisk said, firmly. 

Stay here ? Why, how ? What for ? ” 

^^Yes,” Miss Brisk replied, without a mo- 


KNOWING BEE OPPORTUNITY. 235 

ment’s hesitation. I am going to stay here 
— with Job — because I love him.” 

“ O — oh,” Mrs. Gordon ejaculated. 

wonder if that is all that Jemima will 
say,” Miss Brisk said, quietly. 

Mrs. Gordon laughed, but the next moment 
with a true woman’s interest she was ready 
with words of sympathy and congratulation. 
“Only,” she ventured to ask, “you are sure 
you really do want this, Betty ? you are sure 
you will never regret it ? ” 

“ It isn’t very likely that I will ever regret 
marrying a good man,” Miss Brisk answered, 
with much dignity. “I never did have any 
hankering to be an old maid, but I always said 
I never would change my name until I knew 
I was changing it for the better, and now ” — 
Miss Brisk paused for a minute, and then, in a 
voice softened with a new tenderness, she said : 
“ Yes, I am sure that I want this, Mrs. Gordon. 
I am sure, and I am content.” 

“ I must see about that carpet with the red 
roses,” Mrs. Gordon said, smilingly, and then 
another thought occurred to her. “ What will 
Miss Jemima do ? ” she asked. 

“ That is just what I wish I knew,” Miss 
Brisk answered. “I don’t like to leave her, 
for good and all, as the children say, and yet, 
you know, Mrs. Gordon, there can’t be any 


236 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


question about my duty. I belong here with 
Job.” 

“ I really believe you do,” Mrs. Gordon said, 
sincerely. “Well, since you must leaye your 
sister, how do you think she would like to have 
Bethia live with her ? ” 

“ She would be very fortunate if she could 
have her, and I think it would be a good plan 
for both of them,” Miss Brisk replied. “ Bethia 
isn’t an ordinary girl, there is a fire in her 
that’s got to find a vent somehow. I know 
she wants to leave this island, and I must con- 
fess that I don’t think it’s strange. You see, 
Mrs. Gordon, I’ve tried the world, and I know 
that for a plain, middle-aged woman, like me, 
with few friends and no money, there is nothing 
better in it than I have found here — a good 
home and an honest heart. But Bethia is 
young, she wants what this island cannot give 
her, and if there is a place and a work for her 
away from here, I think it is right that she 
should go and find it.” 

“ That seems to be Bethia’s opinion,” Mrs. 
Gordon said, thoughtfully. “ I have promised 
to help her, but I do not want to be rash. 
What are your and Job’s plans. Have you made 
any yet ? ” 

“Made any? Why we’ve made them all,” 
Miss Brisk answered. “We are both old 


KNOWING HER OPPORTUNITY, 237 

enough to be sensible. When we will have all 
the years after we are married to settle things 
in, we don’t see any use in any great fuss be- 
forehand. Do you know when you will leave 
Loneman’s Island ? I believe ” — and Miss Brisk 
laughed happily — that is the only thing that 
Job and I didn’t settle last night.” 

“ Mr. Gordon settled that question this morn- 
ing,” Mrs. Gordon replied. ‘‘We will leave here 
three weeks from to-day.” 

“ That’s what I supposed from what I’d 
heard Mr. Gordon say. Well, there isn’t any 
use in my going home and disturbing Jemima 
with wedding preparations. She’s a real old 
maid, you know, and so set in her ways that I 
know she’d feel dreadfully worried if I went 
home to be married because there would have 
to be so much unusual work.” 

“Yes, from what I know of Miss Jemima, I 
believe you are right,” Mrs. Gordon said, as 
Miss Brisk stopped and waited for her to speak. 

“ I am sure I am right,” Miss Brisk said, 
with her usual positiveness ; “ and so the day 
you leave here. Job and I will go with you to 
Greenfields and there we’ll be married. I 
shan’t need any .wedding fixin’s, and Jemima 
can pack my things .and send them to me 
whenever it’s convenient. Maybe, sometime, 
she will feel like coming here, and when she 


238 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


does come she will find that if I • have got 
a good husband she has got just as good a 
brother ; and I don’t believe ” — and Miss Brisk 
laughed softly — ‘Hhat she will ever be sorry 
that I knew my opportunity when I saw it.” 


CHAPTEE XV. 


THE REASON WHY. 

“ Love understands the mystery, whereof 
We can but spell a surface history ; . 

Love knows, remembers ; let us trust in Love. 

Love understands the mystery. 

Love weighs the event, the long pre-history. 
Measures the depth beneath, the height above, 
The mystery with the anti-mystery ; 

Trust all to Love, be patient and approve ; 

Love understands the mystery.’’ 

Christina Rossetti, 

■DETHIA was sitting on the doorstep, her 
favorite seat when her own work was 
done and her mother was still busy in the 
kitchen. She was sewing, and for some time 
she had not spoken. Suddenly she dropped 
her needle and turned around to look at her 
mother. 

“ There is just one thing that I don’t under- 
stand,” she said, gravely. 

You are very fortunate then,” Mrs. Power 
answered. “ Most folks find a great many 
things that they don’t understand.” 


239 


240 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND, 


“ I know,” Bethia said, a little impatiently; 
“ but I don’t mean about things in the world, 
I mean about father.” 

What about him ? ” Mrs. Power demanded, 
in a tone that seemed intended to forbid crit- 
icism. 

Bethia was too intent on the puzzle she could 
not solve to heed her mother’s unusual sharp- 
ness. I mean about his living here all these 
years,” she explained. “ I can’t understand 
why he has never been back to his old home — 
not even for a short visit. It seems very 
strange to me.” 

“ There are a good many things that will 
always seem strange to you, so long as you 
haven’t the wisdom of Solomon,” Mrs. Power 
answered, rather sarcastically. 

“ I suppose so,” Bethia said, meekly, “ but I 
don’t think this ought to be a strange thing to 
me. I think I ought to understand it. Wh}^ 
hasn’t father ever been back to his old home? 
Tell me, please, mother. I want to know.” 

I told you your father’s history the other 
day, Bethia,” Mrs. Power said, in a sober voice. 

“ Ye — es,” Bethia admitted; ‘‘ but what you 
told me doesn’t explain this. It seems to me 
very strange that father has never wanted to 
see his old friends and home. Do you know, 
mother, Hopedale is only twenty miles from 


THE REASON WHY, 241 

Restvale where Miss Brisk lives. She told me 
so this morning.” 

‘‘ Yes, I know it,” Mrs. Power said, briefly. 

‘‘ Have you any friends in Eestvale, mother ? 
"Will there be any one I’ll be likely to meet that 
used to know you and father ? ” 

“ JSTo ; I don’t think so.” 

“ Well, if I went to Hopedale — it is so near 
that 1 may go sometime you know — wouldn’t 
I meet some of your old friends there ? ” 

I doubt if you would. In fact, Bethia, I 
don’t believe your father will want you to go 
to Hopedale.” 

“ Not want me to go to his native place ? ” 
Bethia said, in a surprised voice. ‘‘ Why, why 
not ? ” 

“ I do not know that it is necessary to tell 
you the reasons, Bethia. They are good and 
sufficient ones.” 

‘‘ I don’t understand it,” Bethia reiterated 
for the third time. “ Mother,” she asked, after 
a few minutes of puzzled thought, did you 
tell me all of father’s history the other day ? ” 

Mrs. Power looked troubled. “ I told you 
all that I thought it best for you to know, 
Bethia,” she said, gravely. What has made 
you think of this now ? ” 

“ Nothing in particular, mother, but I was 
thinking that perhaps, some day, I could go to 

i6 


242 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


Hopedale and see some of father’s friends — I 
would like to go so much you know — and then 
I began to wonder why you and he never 
went there. Haven’t you ever wanted to go, 
mother ? ” 

Something like a mist seemed to dim Mrs. 
Power’s eyes just then, but her voice did not 
falter. I have been content here,” she said. 

Bethia looked at her mother and her own 
face reflected the trouble she saw in hers : 

“ Mother,” she said, I know there is some 
reason, that is not a happy one, for your never 
going back to Hopedale. And I think I am 
old enough to know it.” 

“ I told you that your father was a good and 
an honest man, and that ought to content you,” 
Mrs. Power said, severely. 

“ But it doesn’t,” Bethia declared. “ Of 
course my father is good and honest. I don’t 
need to be told that ; but I do want to be told 
why he has never been home since he came 
here. Why, mother, now I think of it, I am 
sure that you haven’t either of you ever been 
anywhere but to Greenfields since you first 
came here. Have you ? ” 

“ Ho,” Mrs. Power acknowledged. 

“Well, I know there is a reason for your not 
going anywhere, and I never will rest now 
until I know that reason. Hadn’t you better 


TEE BEASON WEY, 


243 


tell it to me now, mother? You know ” — the 
girl said wisely — “ I may hear of it from some 
stranger in Eestvale.” 

Bethia’s last words seemed to impress Mrs. 
Power. 

Yes,” she said, after a brief silence, “that 
is true, Bethia. Perhaps ” — with a heavy 
sigh — “ it is best that I should tell you every 
thing. Your father is good and honest, you 
must always believe that — ” Mrs. Power paused, 
and looked anxiously at her daughter. 

“ Yes, mother, of course,” Bethia answered, 
carelessly. 

Mrs. Power drew a long breath. “ Bethia,” 
she said, “ I told you about your father’s uncle’s 
will, and about your father’s failure. There 
was just one thing I did not tell you, because it 
was something I hoped you never would have 
to know.” 

“Yes, well, what is it?” Bethia asked, in 
wonder. 

“ This, Bethia,” Mrs. Power spoke slowly, and 
as if every word caused her pain. “ About the 
time your father failed, an acquaintance of his 
paid off a mortgage of ten thousand dollars. 
He paid it in the presence of your father and 
his uncle, Alonzo Steele, and the man who re- 
ceived the money — it was all in bank notes — put 
it in a drawer in his desk, and then locked the 


244 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 


desk and put the key in his pocket. Tour 
father and his uncle witnessed the whole trans- 
action. That night at bedtime the man went 
to his desk and found that it had been opened 
and the money stolen.” 

“ Why, who did it ? ” Bethia cried. 

“ I wish I knew,” Mrs. Power said, sorrow- 
fully. “ It has always been a mystery, Bethia. 
The man had not left his house that evening. 
He and his wife — they had no children and 
lived alone — ^had sat all that evening in a room 
across the hall, just opposite the little parlor 
where the desk was. It was cold weather and 
the doors of both rooms were closed. How the 
thief entered the house was never known, for 
the outside doors and windows were all locked. 
No one knew about the money but the man 
who had paid it, your father, and Alonzo Steele. 
The man who paid the money went home im- 
mediately ; he had a very sick child, and he 
never left his house that evening. His inno- 
cence could not be questioned. Alonzo Steele 
proved that he went to Eestvale that evening, 
transacted business, and returned home about 
midnight, two hours after the robbery was dis- 
covered. The only other person who knew of 
the money was — ^your father.” 

‘‘ Oh,” Bethia cried, in a pained tone, ‘‘ but 
he never took it, mother.” 


THE BE A SON WHY, 


245 


Mrs. Power said, in a voice that 
startled her daughter, it was so shrill and em- 
phatic, “no, he was as innocent as I was, 
Bethia, but ” — and now the firm voice trembled 
a little — “ he was suspected. He had just failed, 
and that — in spite of the good name he had 
always borne — made it easy to suspect him. 
He was arrested and tried for the robbery, 
Bethia. He was acquitted because there was 
not evidence enough to convict him.” 

Mrs. Power stopped, it seemed impossible for 
her to say more. 

“ Mother,” Bethia exclaimed, with vehe- 
mence ; “ I wouldn’t believe that my father took 
that money, not even if he stood before me and 
told me that he did.” 

“ Neither would I,” Mrs. Power said, with 
strong emphasis. 

“ Did the people that knew him believe that 
he took it ? ” Bethia asked the next instant, in 
an anxious voice. 

“ Some did, Bethia. There are always some 
who, until the best is proven, will believe the 
worst. His uncle, Alonzo Steele, believed that 
he did ; but there were others who stood for 
him and did all they could to help him. But it 
was a terrible trial,” Mrs. Power continued, 
mournfully. “ More than anything else in the 
world your father prized his honor ; and when 


246 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

that was touched, life for a while seemed to him 
no longer worth living. He was glad to go 
into the army, and when, at the close of the 
war, he was offered this position, its great charm 
for him was its seclusion and its distance from 
the old home where he had suffered so much. 
He has never wanted to go back there, and ” — 
Mrs. Power’s voice was choked and broken 
now — he never will go back until his inno- 
cence is proved. And that — may be in this 
world — but we do not expect it.” 

Bethia sat still, her face was turned towards 
the ocean, she did not move nor speak. 

^‘You must never mention this to your fa- 
ther, Bethia,” Mrs. Power said soon. 

H-o,” the girl said, slowly. The next mo- 
ment she sprang up; her eyes were blazing, 
and her voice piercing in its anger. Mother,” 
she exclaimed, what can God be thinking of, 
when he lets such dreadful things happen, and 
doesn’t set them right when he could just as 
well as not ? ” 

“ O Bethia, Bethia,” her mother implored, 

don’t say that.” 

Bethia did not stop to hear nor to say more. 
Out of the house, and across the dunes, she ran 
until she reached the little hollow, where Mrs. 
Gordon had once rested. This was Bethia’s 
favorite retreat. Many times in her young life 


THE BE A SON WRY. 


247 


she had come there with her childish troubles. 
She had shed tears there before, but never such 
tears as she shed now. With one glance up at 
the blue sky, as if she half hoped to see the 
promise of God’s justice there, she threw herself 
down on the sand. 

“ Oh, if I could only find God,” she moaned. 
And then the passion she could not control 
overcame her, and she cried aloud in her 
agony. 

Mr. Douglas was sitting on one of the dunes 
near by, and after a moment’s hesitation he 
went pityingly to the sobbing girl. 

•^•^Miss Bethia,” he said, soothingly, “ what does 
this mean, what is the matter ? ” 

Bethia did not look up. “ Go away,” she 
moaned. 

No,” Mr. Douglas said, gently, “ I cannot 
go and leave you until you stop crying.” 

Bethia sobbed like a child. “ I can’t stop,” 
she said, “ I must cry. I am so sorry for my 
father.” 

‘^For your father,” Mr. Douglas repeated, 
as he sat down beside the weeping girl, “ why, 
I saw your father an hour ago, what has hap- 
pened to him ? ” 

“ It all happened a long time ago,” Bethia 
sobbed. ^‘Oh,” — with a fresh burst of tears 
— “ how can God be so cruel ? ” 


248 


OJ\r LON EM AN ISLAND. 


“ Stop crying, and tell me what this means,” 
Mr. Douglas said, in a voice of firm authority. 
Through all her grief and rage Bethia felt his 
quiet power. Her loud cries ceased, and with 
a great effort she sat up and looked at him. 
Her young face was very sad, and as Mr. 
Douglas watched her, he felt that some serious 
trouble had suddenly befallen her. 

^^What is this trouble. Miss Bethia?” he 
asked, gently. “ Can I help you in it ? ” 

Bethia shook her head. Ho, no one can help 

us, if God won’t,” she sobbed. 

“ Bethia,” Mr. Douglas said, in a voice as 
firm as it was kind, “ this must stop. There is 
no trouble God cannot and will not help you 
in. You are his child and he is your Father ; 
do you think he does not love and pity you 
now ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know. He can’t love and pity my 
father, if he did he would ” 

“Stop,” Mr. Douglas said, in a tone that, 
though gentle, enforced obedience. 

A little awed by his manner Bethia checked 
her complaining words. 

“ Don’t tell me anything about your father 
that he would be sorry to have told,” Mr. 
Douglas said now, “ but just tell me this ; is he, 
himself, in any great trouble.” 

“No, he has got used to it,” Bethia said, 


THE REASON WHY. 


249 


mournfully. “It all happened a great while 
ago, but I — never knew about it — ^before.” 

“Poor child,” Mr. Douglas said, pitifully. 
“ Is this trouble something that any one could 
help your father in ? ” he asked, after a moment 
of grave thought. 

“ Ho, no one can help him but God,” Bethia 
said, hopelessly. 

“ Stop,” Mr. Douglas said, as he saw that 
the girl was again choking with sobs. “You 
must not cry any more, and you must not 
think that God, who loves your father better 
and more wisely than you love him, has for- 
gotten him in his trouble.” 

“ He’s kept him waiting a long time,” Bethia 
said, doubtfully. “ If we could only find out 
who did it — but it’s all so mysterious — and no- 
body knows ” 

“ Except the dear and all-wise Father in 
heaven,” Mr. Douglas said, softly. “ He knows 
it all. It may seem very mysterious to you, 
but it is all clear to him, and in his own good 
time he will make it plain to you.” 

“ Do you really think he will ? ” Bethia asked, 
with a faint note of hope in her voice. 

“ I am sure he will : he has promised that he 
will never forsake his children, and he tells us 
in the Bible that he will wait to be gracious to 
us.” 


250 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

But why does he wait so long ? ” Bethia 
said, piteously. 

That old, sad question, that through all the 
ages so many burdened hearts have asked ; it 
touched Mr. Douglas deeply. For the moment 
he forgot the weeping girl beside him, and 
with eyes that seemed to be seeking for an 
answer to her question he looked wishfull}?^ olf 
at the ocean. In its vast immensity it seemed 
to him like a type of eternity, and its solemn, 
unending chant came to him like whispers from 
the heart of that divine Love that waits and 
yearns to save the world. Presently with a 
smile, touched with the tenderness of his 
thought, he turned again to Bethia. 

I cannot tell you why God waits,” he said, 
gently, ^‘but I know he waits in love. I 
know ” — and his voice was joyous in its confi- 
dence — I know the waiting time will be not 
one hour longer than his love deems best.” 

Bethia sighed wearily. If only he were 
not so far away,” she said, sorrowfully. “ If 
only I could go to him and tell him all about 
it.” 

“Suppose we tell him about it here,” Mr. 
Douglas said. “ God is always present with 
his children, and always ready to hear their 
prayers.” 

Without a word Bethia bowed her head and 


THE BE A SON WHY. 


251 


standing beside her Mr. Douglas prayed — 
“Our Father, thou art Love, and thou art al- 
together wise. All our lives are spent in thy 
sight, and all our troubles are known to thee. 
There are no griefs thou canst not soothe, no 
wrongs thou canst not right, no mysteries that 
thou dost not understand. The things that 
sadden our hearts to-day we do not need to tell 
to thee in words. Our thoughts can always 
find their way to thee. Thou dost know them 
all, and thou art watching and only waiting 
until the right time comes to help us. We be- 
lieve this because we are thy children, and so 
we leave all our trouble with thee, and pray 
that thy will concerning it may all be done, for 
there can be no wrong unrighted when thy 
will is done.” 

The low voice ceased ; for a moment the 
silence in the little hollow was like a benedic- 
tion, then Bethia sprang up. 

“ I must go,” she said, hurriedly, as she ran 
up one of the low dunes. 

The next minute she came back to where 
Mr. Douglas was standing. 

“ Thank you,” she said, humbly. 

A smile answered her first. Then he asked 
kindly, “ Is the trouble gone ? ” . 

“ No,” she whispered, “ but — I want to tell 
you — I wiU try to trust God to take care of it.” 


CHAPTEK XYI. 


CONVINCED AT LAST. 

“ There is a day in spring, 

When under all the earth the secret germs 
Begin to stir and glow before they bud. 

The wealth and festal growth of midsummer 
Lie in the heart of that inglorious hour 
Which no man names with blessing ; though its works 
Be blessed by all the world. Such days there are 
In the slow history of the growth of souls.” 

Anonymous, 

TT was a Sabbath afternoon on Loneman’s 
Island, a light mist softened the sunshine, 
and a low wind just rustled the dry bushes on 
the dunes. There was not a sail to be seen on 
the ocean, and the breakers, as they rose, and 
broke, and rolled languidly shoreward, seemed 
touched by the same spirit of peace that was 
brooding in the sky and over the earth. It 
was an afternoon free from every disturbing 
sight and sound, and full of an exquisite power 
to soothe and calm, to which, like tired children 
to a lullaby, both mind and body yielded with- 
out resistance. 

252 


CONVINCED AT LAST. 


253 


It was three o’clock : the hour for the Bible 
reading that the little company on Loneman’s 
Island had united in every Sunday afternoon 
since Donald’s convalescence. David Power 
with his wife and Bethia, Job and Miss Brisk, 
Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, and Mr. Douglas were 
all assembled now in the little porch in front 
of Job’s cottage. Not far from them Donald 
was lying on the warm sand happily occupied 
with a book of pictures. 

It seems like an afternoon for angels,” Mrs. 
Gordon said — breaking the dreamlike silence 
that had fallen upon them all — how far away 
the world with all its distractions and wearing 
cares seems now ! ” 

“ And the other world, with all its peace and 
joy so near?” Mr. Douglas said, in an interrog- 
ative tone. 

“ I don’t know about the other world,” Mr. 
Gordon exclaimed, a little impatiently. “ This 
world does sometimes — to-day, for instance — 
seem very beautiful. But the other world — is 
any one sure that it really exists? Can any 
one tell us surely anything about it ? ” 

The Bible tells us a good deal about it,” 
Mr. Douglas remarked, quietly. 

“ The Bible ? oh, yes — of course,” Mr. Gor- 
don said, in a discontented voice. “That is 
the purpose of the Bible.’^ 


254 


ON L ON EM AN ISLAND. 


“ It is surely God’s revelation to us of that 
other world,” Mrs. Gordon said, thoughtfully. 

“ Ye-es,” Mr. Gordon admitted, unwillingly, 
perhaps it is. But it’s old, and it has come 
through so many different hands and minds 
that I find it impossible to give it unquestion- 
ing belief. Now, if I could only have a vision 
or a revelation myself — then it would be easy 
to believe. It is the having to accept so much 
on the authority of others that staggers me. 
Each man ought to have his own special revela- 
tion or assurance of the truth — if it is the truth 
— it seems to me.” 

“ Every man who lifts his face heavenward 
will surely get light from heaven,” Mr. Douglas 
said, gravely, as he opened his Bible. 

“ Perhaps so — I don’t know,’^ Mr. Gordon 
replied, gloomily. 

Mr. Douglas did not appear to hear him. 
‘‘ As this is our last Sabbath reading together,” 
he said, suppose we try to get a little glimpse 
of that other world. Its gates are not closed,” 
he added, with a little smile. I think we may 
look in if we will.” 

“ How can we ? ” Bethia asked, impulsively. 

“ Through God’s word — faith’s telescope,” 
he answered, as he turned the pages of his 
Bible. ‘^I will read,” he said, in a minute, 
‘^passages from different chapters in Kevela- 


CONVINCED AT LAST. 


255 


tion. I have chosen them and connected them 
so as to throw the strongest light I can upon 
that other world we want to consider to*day. 
Let us see, first, that other world, then the 
city, then the throne, then the great multitude 
around that throne.” 

No one spoke. In the sweet silence of the 
Sabbath afternoon they listened, while in a 
low, clear voice, Mr. Douglas reSd : 

“ I saw a new heaven and a new earth : for 
the first heaven and the first earth are passed 
away ; and the sea is no more. And I saw the 
holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out 
of heaven from God, made ready as a bride 
adorned for her husband. 

And the wall of the city had twelve founda- 
tions, — 

And the city lieth four square, the length 
thereof is as great as the breadth : 

The length and the breadth and the height 
thereof are equal. 

And the city hath no need of the sun, neither 
of the moon, to shine upon it : for the glory of 
God did lighten it, and the lamp thereof is the 
Lamb. 

And the nations shall walk amidst the light 
thereof : and the kings of the earth do bring 
their glory into it. 

And the gates thereof shall in no wise 


4 

256 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

be shut by day (for there shall be no night 
there). 

And I saw a great white throne, and him 
that sat upon it, from whose face the earth and 
the heaven fled away ; and there was found no 
place for them. 

And I heard a great voice out of the throne 
saying. Behold, the tabernacle of God is with 
men, and he shall dwell with them, and they 
shall be his peoples, and God himself shall be 
with them, and he their God : 

And he shall wipe away every tear from 
their eyes ; and death shall be no more ; neither 
shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain, 
any more : the first things are passed away. 

After these things I saw, and behold, a great 
multitude, which no man could number, out of 
every nation, and of all tribes and peoples and 
tongues, standing before the throne and before 
the Lamb, arrayed in white robes, and palms 
in their hands ; and they cry with a great 
voice, saying. Salvation unto our God which 
sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb. 

And one of the elders answered, saying unto 
me. These which are arrayed in the white robes, 
who are they, and whence came they ? 

And I say unto him. My lord, thou knowest. 
And he said to me. These are they which come 
out of the great tribulation, and they washed 


CONVINCED AT LAST, 


257 


their robes, and made them white in the blood 
of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the 
throne of God ; and they serve him day and 
night in his temple : and he that sitteth on 
the throne shall spread his tabernacle over 
them. 

They shall hunger no more, neither thirst 
any more ; neither shall the sun strike upon 
them, nor any heat : for the Lamb which is in 
the midst of the throne shall be their shepherd, 
and shall guide them unto fountains of waters 
of life : and God shall wipe away every tear 
from their eyes.” 

The low reading ceased ; with something of 
the light of that city reflected in his face Mr. 
Douglas looked up at his hearers. 

“ How real it seems ! How near it seems to 
bring that other world ! ” Mrs. Gordon said 
with a wishful sigh. 

“They are comfortin’ words,” Job said, in 
a happy voice, “ but that line about the sea ” 

“And the sea is no more,” Mr. Douglas 
repeated. 

“ Yes. What does that mean ? Won’t there 
be water there ? Seems to me even in heaven 
I would miss that.” 

“ There are ‘ still waters ’ there,” Mr. 
Douglas said, gently. “ The sea, the great, 
heaving, tumultuous sea stands there for a type 

17 


258 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


of all earth’s discords and troubles. You will 
not be sorry to miss them in heaven.” 

“No,” Job said, emphatically. “Some- 
times,” he continued, “ it seems to me, that 
even in this world, God’s children ain’t no right 
to feel trouble as much as they do.” 

Mr. Douglas checked a sigh. “ God’s chil- 
dren are often wayward and wilful,” he said, 
gravely. “ They will not come to the Father 
and find rest. They will not trust him with 
their cares ; 

“ ‘ And that they will not trust to him 
Of course they have to bear.’ ” 

“ But in heaven ? ” Bethia said, eagerly. 

“ Ah, yes, in heaven,” he said, as his eyes 
brightened, “the children will know the Father 
they have so mistrusted here.” 

“ Mr. Douglas,” David Power said, in an 
earnest voice. “It’s a strange question, per- 
haps, but I want to ask. What is the Father 
like?” 

“ Like Love, for he is Love,” Mr. Douglas 
answered, reverently. 

“ Like love,” Mr. Gordon echoed. “ Allan, 
I want to ask a question now. What kind of 
a love is it, that can look down on all the 
misery, sorrow, and sin in thi^ world, and leave 


CONVINCED AT LAST. 259 

the misery unrelieved, the sorrow uncomforted, 
and the sin undestroyed ? ” 

Mr. Douglas raised his hand. “ Be careful, 
Eoderick,” he said, warningly. “Eemember 

the cry over Jerusalem — Ye would not . 

This world is full of sorrow, and misery, and 
sin, not because God is not love but because it 
will not accept that love.” 

“ Suppose it would accept it,” Mrs. Gordon 
suggested, thoughtfully. 

“ Yes,” Mr. Douglas said, in a voice touched 
with deep and tender feeling, let us try to 
suppose what would be then. Let us think for 
a moment of God as a great heart of love, 
yearning to care and bless this world. Let us 
think of ourselves — as we are — surrounded by 
that love, enfolded in it, and upheld by it, but 
— indifferent to it, unconscious of it. And now 
let us try to comprehend, in some measure, 
what the realization of the reality and presence 
of that great love would do for us. Eoderick, 
you may speak first.” 

Mr. Gordon looked up with a troubled coun- 
tenance to the blue sky. 

“ It would satisfy all our doubts,” he said, 
moodily. 

It would quiet all our fears,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, as her brother looked at her. 

“ It would make every day a thanksgivin’ 


260 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

day/’ Job said, while his face glowed with hap- 
piness. 

It would heal all the sore places in our 
hearts,” David Power said, while his voice 
trembled with emotion. 

“ It would comfort us in all our sorrows,” 
Mrs. Power said, while her eyes grew dim as 
she watched her husband. 

It would make us grateful for our mercies,” 
Miss Brisk said, with a smile, as she looked at 
Job. 

It would make us content to wait,” Bethia 
said, with a faint sigh. 

It would destroy all sin in us,” Mr. Douglas 
said, with solemn joy. 

“ Can you prove that, Allan ? ” Mr. Gordon 
asked, abruptly. “ How could it do that ? ” 

“ Through Christ.” The low Avords, so ten- 
derly and reverently uttered, found an echo in 
all their hearts. 

No one spoke again for some minutes. A 
sweet and solemn awe stole over them all, as 
they faintly realized what that divine Love 
would do for them, if they would but per- 
mit it. 

Presently Miss Brisk broke the silence. 

“ It would make a new earth wouldn’t it ? ” 
she said, meditatively. 

And yet we have not begun to fathom the 


CONVINCED AT LAST, 


261 


height and depth of that omnipotent Love,” 
Mr. Douglas replied. “Each heart here has 
proved that it would fully satisfy its own 
special need. Now think of all the other hun- 
gering and thirsting hearts in the world to-day, 
who coming to it would be equally satisfied.” 

“ Allan,” Mr. Gordon exclaimed, “ words are 
easily spoken, sometimes, and they sound well, 
but they lack truth. Now tell me, solemnly, 
do you believe all that you have just said ? ” 

“ Yes,” the answer was granite-like in its 
firmness. 

“ And there is no doubt in your mind ? ” 

“ No, none.” 

“ I believe you,” Mr. Gordon said, “ but I 
cannot ” 

“Accept your faith,” he would have said, 
but something checked the bitter words. 
Eising suddenly he left the porch and walked 
over to the dune where Donald was lying. 
The little boy looked up at him with a con- 
fiding smile. Mr. Gordon sat down beside him 
and watched him for a few moments without 
speaking. Then, impelled by some impulse he 
could not resist, he asked : 

“ Donald, are you sure I love you ? ” 

“ Why, yes, papa, of course,” the' little fel- 
low answered, wonderingly. 

“You are sure because I am always with 


262 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


you,” Mr. Gordon said, in a dissatisfied voice. 

But now, Donald, suppose that I was a long 
way from you. So far away that you had 
never seen me, and could never hear me speak, 
how would you know that I loved you, then ? ” 

Donald laid his small hand confidingly on 
his father’s arm. “ Why, I guess, papa, that I’d 
know you loved me by the good things you’d 
send me,” he said, with an innocent laugh. 

It was a child’s simple answer, but it fell on 
Mr. Gordon’s heart with the power of an 
X ray. It pierced its thick wall of pride, and 
showed him all his ingratitude and all his sin. 

He looked up at the blue sky, that like God’s 
great love was bending over him ; he drew 
in long breaths of the pure air God had given 
to sustain his life, he remembered the blessings 
— so many that they could not be numbered 
— that had crowded every moment of his 
existence. 

An hour later he walked up from the beach. 
There was a new light in his face when he met 
his wife and Allan Douglas. 

I have had my special revelation,” he hum- 
bly acknowledged to them. “ I am convinced 
at last, I will quibble Avith doubts no longer. 
Your God shall be my God; your Christ mv 
Christ.” 


CHAPTER XYII. 


AWAY FEOM HOME*. 

“ A voyager on a stream 
From whence is no returning. 

Under sealed orders going, 

Looking forward little knowing, 

Looking back with idle yearning.” 

Whittier. 

A ND now everything is ready.” 

Bethia was standing with Mrs. Gordon 
in Job’s little parlor. Three weeks had passed 
since the eventful night when Miss Brisk saw 
her opportunity and improved it, and during 
those three weeks, Job’s cottage had been 
thoroughly renovated. The walls had been 
prettily papered, a carpet bright with roses 
now covered the parlor floor, and simple but 
pretty furniture had been placed in every room. 
The kitchen had been completely furnished 
with every convenience a good housekeeper 
could desire, and the little store room was well 
filled with boxes and barrels. Nothing that 
was necessary or desirable for the comfort of a 
home had been omitted. It was all to be — so 

263 


264 


ON LON EM AN ISLAND. 


Mrs. Gordon said — Donald’s wedding present 
to his faithful friends ; and now that all was 
done Bethia and Mrs. Gordon were going for 
the last time through the house. 

‘^And now,” Bethia said, as she looked 
thoughtfully about the little parlor, “ every- 
thing is ready.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Gordon answered, “ and to-mor- 
row Ave leave, and Job and Betty take posses- 
sion of their home.” 

“ It seems strange,” Bethia said, soberly. “ I 
never expected Job to marry, but I am very 
glad Miss Brisk is going to live here. It Avill 
be pleasant for mother to have her here. She 
won’t miss me quite so much.” Bethia’s voice 
trembled a little OA^'er those last words, and she 
brushed her hand across her eyes to conceal 
the tears she could not choke back. 

Mrs. Gordon looked anxiously at the young 
girl. “Are you sure that you still want to 
go Avith me to-morroAV, Bethia?” she asked. 
“ Are you sure that you are not going to leave 
more than you Avill get ? ” 

“ I am going to leave a great deal, I am sure 
of that,” Bethia said, sorroAvfully. “ It almost 
breaks my heart Avhen I think of leaving my 
father and mother.” 

“ But you still want to go ? ” 

“ Yes,” Bethia answered, instantly, though 


AWAY FBOM HOME, 


265 


her voice was tearful. “ It is my one chance, 
Mrs. Gordon, I cannot give it up.” 

I do not think you ought to,” Mrs. Gordon 
said, kindly ; but Bethia did not hear her : half 
blinded by her tears she had turned and left 
the house. 

‘^Katharine, what was the matter with 
Bethia ? ” 

Mrs. Gordon was looping a curtain. She 
turned and looked in some surprise at her 
brother, who was standing in the doorway. 

“ The matter with Bethia,” she repeated. 

“ Yes, I met her a minute ago. She was 
running home from here and crying bitterly. 
What has happened, Katharine ? ” 

“ Nothing. It is what is going to happen, 
that troubles her,” Mrs. Gordon explained. 
‘‘ She is beginning to realize what it will be to 
leave her parents to-morrow.” 

“Poor child,” Mr. Douglas said, compas- 
sionately. 

“I hope I am doing right to take her,” 
Mrs. Gordon said, gravely. 

“ I think you are,” her brother replied. “ It 
is her duty and her privilege to make all she 
can of her life. She could not make much of 
it here.” 

“ I don’t half like it,” Mr. Gordon, who had 
followed Mr. Douglas into the room, said now. 


266 ON L ON EM AN ’ 8 ISLAND. 

‘‘ It is your arrangement, Katharine, and I do 
not wish to oppose you, but I can see clearly 
enough — though I am no prophet — how this 
business will end. That girl will be educated 
above her station, and then she will be more 
discontented and unhappy than she is now. 
Half the misery in the world — in my opinion 
— comes from this one cause — educating poor 
young people for positions they never can reach.” 

“ If they ought not to be educated why has 
God given them minds that hunger for educa- 
tion ? ” Mrs. Gordon inquired. 

Mr. Gordon frowned. Oh, of course, I 
would give them education enough to fit them 
for the plain, practical business of everyday 
life,” he said. “ But the higher education — the 
cultivation and culture — of which we hear so 
much in these days, I maintain that the less of 
that we give to the poor the better for them and 
for the country.” 

Mrs. Gordon turned to her brother. Do 
you believe that, Allan ? ” she asked, in a doubt- 
ful voice. 

^^Ko, the desire for knowledge, and the 
ability to acquire it, is a talent ; and whether 
possessed by rich or poor it is God’s will that 
it should be improved.” 

“ I expected you to say something like that, 
Allan,” Mr. Gordon said, sarcastically. 


AJVAT FROM HOME. 


267 


“ Well, Katharine,” he continued, in a gentler 
voice, “ since you have decided to educate that 
young girl, you will do it, I know, no matter 
how much trouble and anxiety she may cause 
you. But, my dear, you must remember that 
you alone will be responsible for her safety. 
You must answer to her parents if any harm 
should befall her. Have you seriously consid- 
ered this ? ” 

“ Yes,” Mrs. Gordon said, gravely. 

“ So be it, then,” Mr. Gordon replied. “ I 
shall watch your experiment with a good deal 
of interest, but you must not ask for my ap- 
proval.” 

“ I will wait for that until the next four 
years have done their work,” Mrs. Gordon 
answered, with a hopeful smile. 

A blue sky brooding peacefully over the blue 
waters ; a flock of sea gulls poising on white 
wings just above the waves ; a ship with spread 
sails shining in the fair, morning sunlight ; 
that was the picture Bethia saw from her win- 
dow the next morning, when, for the last time 
in many long months, she drew aside her cur- 
tain and looked out. She was dressed for her 
journey ; her little trunk was locked ; she had 
nothing more to do except to say good-bye to 
the humble home that had sheltered her through 
fifteen happy years. With a full heart she 


268 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


looked around her room ; everything in it spoke 
of the unselfish and thoughtful love of her father 
and mother. For a minute she looked from 
one cherished thing to another, and then kneel- 
ing by her bedside she prayed — like one of old 
— that God would go with her, and keep her in 
the new life t>ef ore her, and bring her again in 
safety to that peaceful home. 

“ Come, Bethia,” her mother called, break- 
fast is ready.” And with a brave effort to hide 
all traces of tears, Bethia ran downstairs and 
joined her parents in the kitchen. 

Breakfast was a mere pretence for them all. 
They hurried through it without talking, and 
then silently, but with all their usual neatness 
and precision, the mother and daughter went 
about their morning duties. They had little to 
do. The Gordons, with Miss Brisk, had gone 
over to Greenfields the night before, and Job 
— with Bethia and her parents — was to join 
them at ten o’clock at the little church 
where the marriage ceremony was to be per- 
formed. 

David Power stood for a few minutes in the 
open door, but after one glance at the ocean he 
turned and with sober and wishful eyes watched 
Bethia, as she flitted about the room. Presently 
he sat down. 

“ Beth,” he called. 


AWAY FEOM HOME. 


269 


The girl came to him instantly. What is 
it, father ? ” she asked, gently. 

David put his arm arouifd her and drew her 
close to his side. My little’ girl, my little 
Beth,” he said, in a tender whisper, “ it is al- 
most the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my 
life — to let you go away. It seems as if I could 
not spare you.” 

“ Oh don’t,” Bethia sobbed, “ don’t talk so, 
father. I can’t bear to hear you, for it’s almost 
breaking my heart to leave you.” 

And yet you want to go ? ” David said, 
sadly. 

“ I must go,” Bethia said, tearfully. “ I don’t 
know why, father, but some way, I feel that I 
must go.” 

“ It is your destiny drawing you, I suppose,” 
David said, with a sigh. “Well, Bethia, my 
little girl, father has always let you have your 
way, when he could, and he’U let you have it 
now. But,” — and the strong man’s voice trem- 
bled, and the arm that was holding Bethia drew 
her closer — “ be a good girl, my darling, and 
don’t ever do anything that you Avould be 
ashamed to have your mother know.” 

“ I won’t,” Bethia promised, while she laid 
her head on her father’s shoulder and cried like 
a child. 

“ There, there,” David said, soothingly. 


270 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 

“ Don’t cry, Beth. The years will soon go by, 
and if you keep your promise, they won’t be 
very hard for us to live through. Life is never 
altogether sad where there is no wrongdoing 
to repent of.” 

David’s last words were spoken in a whisper, 
and Bethia did not hear them, but the next 
minute he said more cheerfulh^, “ Mother and 
I will have to find all our comfort in your let- 
ters now, Beth, and you must write often.” 

Yes ; I will, father.” 

“ It is strange,” David said after a moment’s 
silence, “ it is passing strange the way we are 

led sometimes in this world ” 

What makes you say that, father ? ” Bethia 
asked, as David paused abruptly. 

Nothing in particular,” he answered, soberly, 
“ only I was thinking about my old home. You 
are going very near there, you know.” 

‘‘ Yes, father,” Bethia said, tremulously. Is 
there any one there you would like to have me 
see ? ” she ventured to ask in a moment. 

No, I have no particular friends there,” 
David said, in a grave voice. “ If you should 
ever meet Judge Osborne you might tell him 
that you are my daughter. It isn’t very likely, 
though, that you’ll meet him.” 

“I will remember his name, at any rate,” 
Bethia said, with decision. 


AWAY FBOM HOME, 


271 


It won’t do any good,” David sighed ; and 
then for a few moments he seemed lost in a 
gloomy revery Bethia did not dare to disturb. 

Presently Job’s glad voice was heard whis- 
tling in the path between his house and the 
tower. David started and released Bethia. 
“ Come, this won’t do,” he said. ‘‘ On Job’s 
wedding morning we must not feel cast down. 
It is most time we were off, I reckon, so go and 
put on your hat, Beth, and have your last words 
with your mother. There won’t be any time 
for good-byes in Greenfields.” 

Bethia started to obey her father, but once 
more his hands detained her and held her fast. 

Ah, these last farewells ; these partings that 

“ May be for years and may be forever,” 

it is well for our weak human hearts that the 
minutes allotted to them are always brief and 
hurried. 

“ Come, David,” Mrs. Power said, in a mo- 
ment, “ we ought to be going.” 

David laid his hand as if in blessing on 
Bethia’s bright head. “ God keep my child,” 
he said, solemnly. 

“We ought to be going,” Mrs. Power said 
again. 

David turned and took up his hat. “ Is your 
trunk ready, Beth ? ” he asked in his usual tone. 


272 ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND, 

All ready, father.” 

“ Go on down to the boat, then,” David 
ordered, and in a few more minutes Bethia 
had crossed the threshold of her quiet home, 
and Loneman’s Island saw her no more for 
years. 

It was late the next day when Mr. Gordon’s 
carriage stopped before Miss Jemima Brisk’s 
little cottage. 

This is your new home, Bethia,” Mrs. Gor- 
don said; and with a beating heart the girl 
followed her into the house. 

“ So you have really brought her,” Miss Je- 
mima said, as she caught sight of Bethia. ‘‘ I 
didn’t more than half believe she’d come.” 

Something in Miss Jemima’s tone plainly in- 
timated that she had cherished a hope that her 
half belief would not prove true ; but Mrs. Gor- 
don wisely ignored all such ungracious intima- 
tions. 

“ You will not be lonely now that you have 
some one to fill Miss Betty’s place,” she said, 
pleasantly. 

Miss Jemima was very near sighted; she 
adjusted her spectacles and looked sharply at 
Bethia. 

‘‘ Humph,” she ejaculated, “ it isn’t" exactly 
filling a place, when you put a china image, 
that’s good for nothing, on the shelf where 


A IFAV FROM HOME. 


273 


there’s always been a good clock that you could 
depend on to keep the right time.” 

Mrs. Gordon smiled. She was used to Miss 
Jemima’s plain speaking, and she knew she Avas 
like a chestnut, sweet at heart though she was 
prickly to handle. 

“ I don’t thiuk you will find Bethia as use- 
less as a china image,” she said, in a conciliatory 
tone ; “ she is willing to do all she can to assist 
you, and you know since Miss Betty must get 
married ” 

“ Must,” Miss Jemima interrupted. ‘‘ I Avould 
just like to knoAV, Mrs. Gordon, where Betty 
Brisk found the ^ must ’ that made it necessary 
for her to leave me and get married.” 

In her heart, I suppose,” Mrs. Gordon said, 
smilingly. “ You ought not to regret her marry- 
ing, Miss Jemima. I believe she will be very 
happy in her neAV home, and I think you and 
Bethia will find it a pleasant arrangement to 
live together here.” 

“ The one is about as likely as the other,” 
Miss Jemima answered : but though her tone 
Avas severe her thin lips parted in a humorous 
smile. Once more she looked keenly at Bethia, 
and then she opened a door leading into a little 
bedroom. 

“ Go in there and take off your things,” she 
ordered. 

i8 


274 ON L ON EM AN ’ S ISLAND. 

Glad of a chance to hide the tears that in- 
sisted on coming, Bethia obeyed her. Miss 
Jemima carefully closed the door, and then 
she looked soberly at Mrs. Gordon. 

“I wouldn’t have taken her — any sooner 
than I’d adopt a basket baby — ^if I had sus- 
pected that she was a beauty,” she said. “ I 
guess I’ll need patience now, if I never needed 
it before.” 

“ She is a good girl,” Mrs. Gordon answered, 
“ but if you really think she will trouble you, 
I will try to find another suitable home for 
her.” 

“ She has come to me,” Miss Jemima replied 
promptly, ^^and now she will stay with me, 
until I see plainly that she would be better off 
somewhere else. Of course, she will be a re- 
sponsibility — I never yet saw the girl that 
wasn’t — but I never have been in the habit of 
shirking my responsibilities, and I shan’t shirk 
this one.” 

“ It is a responsibility that I believe you will 
soon begin to love,” Mrs. Gordon said, cheer- 
fully. 

“ That will depend upon circumstances,” 
Miss Jemima answered, oracularly. “ But any 
way I will take good care of her,” and with 
that promise Mrs. Gordon was satisfied ; for 
she knew that in her heart Miss Jemima was 


AIVAT FROM HOME. 


275 


well pleased to share her lonely home with a 
bright, young girl. 

The next day Bethia’s school life began. It 
was a day that she never forgot. She had 
looked forward to it with ardent longing, but 
she found some of its experiences very trying 
and humiliating, and at its close she was 
conscious of feeling both homesick and dis- 
couraged. 

“ I know the alphabet, but not much more,” 
she answered, dolefully, that evening when 
Miss Jemima inquired about her studies. 

“ Oh well,” Miss Jemima replied with com- 
posure, “you usually start from the ground 
when you begin to climb a ladder, but you get 
higher with every step.” 

“May I come in?” It was Mr. Douglas 
who spoke. From boyhood he had been in the 
habit of entering the house without knocking, 
and he now stood on the threshold of the 
sitting room. 

Miss Jemima’s face brightened, as it always 
did in his presence. “ Here is a chair for you,” 
she said, pulling forward her most comfortable 
rocker. “I am very glad to see you, Mr. 
Allan.” 

“ And I am certainly glad to see you,” Mr. 
Douglas answered warmly, and then he turned 
to Bethia. 


276 


OJSr LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


Has this first day in school been a pleasant 
one ? ” he asked. 

Not very,” Bethia reluctantly confessed. 

What has made it unpleasant ? ” he asked, 
with kind interest. 

Bethia sighed wearily. “ I am so ignorant. 
All the girls of my age know so much more 
than I do,” she said, in a troubled voice. 

Never mind,” he answered, cheerfully. 

Happy are they who know their failings, and 
who have the wills and the means to mend 
them. You hav^ books and teachers now, and, 
if you are patient and persevering, with every 
step you will push ignorance before you, just 
as a conquering army pushes a retreating one.” 

It appears to me, that that is about all life 
is— just one hard push,” Miss Jemima remarked 
now. 

Mr. Douglas smiled. What are you push- 
ing now. Miss Jemima? ” he inquired. 

“Well, just at present, I believe Jemima 
Brisk’s good self is trying to push her bad self 
out of existence.” 

“ Is it easy work ? ” 

Miss Jemima shook her head. “ Just about 
as easy as it would be for a dwarf to knock 
down a giant,” she said, gravely. 

“ Ah, but put the dwarf on the shoulders of 
another giant, and what then?” 


AWAY FROM HOME. 


277 


Miss Jemima was knitting. In her usual 
slow and composed manner she counted the 
stitches on her needles and set her heel, then 
she dropped her stocking and looked at Mr. 
Douglas. “ You always give me something to 
think of, Allan Douglas,” she said, in an ap- 
proving tone. 

“ If that is true, I am thankful,” Mr. Douglas 
answered, and then after a moment’s silence 
he added : Most of us fail in our efforts to 
push against evil. Miss Jemima, simply because 
we rely on our own strength.” There was a 
knock at the . street door just then; Miss Je- 
mima hastened to answer it, and Bethia asked, 
eagerly : 

“ On what can we rely, if not on our own 
strength ? ” 

“ On Christ,” he answered, reverently. 

“But we want so much strength, and we 
seem to get so little — from him,” Bethia said, 
sadly. 

“ Hush. Don’t say that. All we want we 
can find in him — if we will but take it.” 

Bethia’s lips trembled sensitively ; for a mo- 
ment she did not speak : then, in an earnest 
voice, she asked, 

“ Here in my quiet everyday life, with all 
its little cares and troubles, does Christ know 
about^me, does he care for me? ” 


278 


ON LON EM AN'S ISLAND. 


“ With grave but kind eyes Allan Douglas 
looked at the young girl. He understood the 
unspoken longing in her heart for an assurance 
of God’s personal love and guidance, and his 
voice was touched with tender sympathy as he 
answered : 

“ He has told us so, Bethia, and what he has 
told us is altogether true. Let me read you 
this,” he said the next minute, as he took a 
little paper out of his pocketbook. “ There is 
an answer in it for the questions you have just 
asked.” 

“ What is it ? ” Bethia asked. 

“ A poem by Mrs. Whitney. See how well 
she understood the doubt you have just ex- 
pressed, and see, too, what a precious answer 
she found for it. Listen, now,” and in a low, 
impressive voice, he read : 

“ Among so many can he care 

Can special love be everywhere ? 

A myriad homes — a myriad ways — 

And God’s eye over every place ? 

Over — but in 9 The world is full, 

A grand omnipotence must rule. 

But is there life that doth abide 
With mine own living side by side ? 

I asked : my soul bethought of this— 

In just that very place of his, 

Where he hath put and keepeth you, 

God hath no other work to do.” 


AWAY FROM HOME, 279 

The sweet reading ended and Mr. Douglas 
arose. 

Bethia extended her hand for the poem, 
“ May I have it to copy ? ” she asked. 

“ Keep it,” he said, as he gave it to her, and 
let it help you always to remember that you 
are God’s child, and, in the place where he has 
put you, his special care.” 

“ I will remember,” Bethia promised humbly, 
and she kept her promise. 


CHAPTEE XVIIL 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 


In all thy life’s course remember this— - 
Truth is strong next to the Almighty.” 


Milton, 



HEN at the age of sixteen one looks for- 


ward to twenty-one, the years between 
seem verj^ long, but, so swiftly that one is 
scarcely conscious of their passing, the days glide 
into weeks, and the weeks into months ; soon 
the months are numbered as years, and the last 
one is gone. Thoughts like these were flitting 
through Bethia’s mind one June morning five 
years from the time when we first saw her on 
Loneman’s Island. She was sitting in her little 
room in Miss Jemima’s house ; her trunk was 
open, and all around her were piles of books 
and clothes. Her school life was ended. The 
day before she had graduated as the valedic- 
torian of her class. Now her heart was beating 
high with hopes for the future, and already 
she was making arrangements to teach in the 
autumn. But first she was going home. She 


280 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 281 

was to start that afternoon, and thoughts of 
that home going made her hands tremble with 
joy while she crowded her things into her 
trunk. 

Her task was almost accomplished, she had 
only the tray to pack, when her door was 
opened by an energetic hand, and Miss Jemima, 
arrayed in her shawl and hat walked in. 

“ You see I am almost through,” Bethia said, 
cheerfully. 

“ You needn’t be in any hurry to finish,” 
Miss Jemima remarked, as she sat down on the 
bed ; “ you can’t start for home to-day.” 

Bethia stood still with her hat-box in her 
hand, “ Hot start,” she exclaimed, why 
not ? ” 

“ Because you have got to go to Hopedale, 
to see Judge Osborne.” 

“ Judge Osborne ! ” There was surprise and 
consternation in Bethia’s voice as she repeated 
that name. Judge Osborne was the man her 
father had spoken of the morning she left Lone- 
man’s Island. Yery soon after her arrival in 
Eestvale she had inquired about him. He had 
moved away from Hopedale, she was told, and 
since then she had heard nothing about him. 
How, too confused to think clearly, she stood 
still and stared at Miss Jemima. 

“ Yes, you have got to see him,” Miss Jemima 


282 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


said, positively. ^^You needn’t ask me why, 
for I can’t tell you.” 

But how do you know that I must see him ? ” ' 
Bethia managed to ask. 

“ Why, I met him half an hour ago in the 
street. He has been away so long that at first 
I half believed I’d met his ghost, but he knew 
me and stopped to speak to me. 

‘ Well,’ I said, ^ Judge Osborne, you have 
been away so long that it is almost like having 
the dead come back to see you here again. Have 
you come back to stay ? ’ 

“ ‘ Ho,’ he said, ‘ not permanently.’ And 
then he looked very sober and said, ‘ You know 
Alonzo Steele is dead ? ’ 

‘ Yes,’ I said, ^his funeral was yesterday.’ 

‘ He sent for me a few days before he died,’ 
the Judge went on, ^ and now I shall remain to 
settle up his estate.’ 

Well,’ I said, Hhere ought to be consider- 
able to settle, for Alonzo Steele could catch 
money and hold it fast, better than any other 
man I ever heard of.’ 

^ Yes, there is considerable,’ the Judge said, 
and then he went on, in a meditating way, ^ but 
there are great complications. Miss Brisk. It 
would make this world a great deal easier for 
us lawyers if people didn’t have such strange 
ways of disappearing and getting lost.’ 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 


283 


^ Oh, well/ I said — just for the sake of say- 
ing something, you know, Bethia — ^ lost things 
can generally be found if we only look hard 
enough. But who is lost now, Judge Osborne ? ' 

^ A man who twenty-five years ago was 
well-known in this neighborhood/ he said, in a 
serious voice. ^Now — of course — twenty-five 
years is a long time, Miss Jemima, and yet, so 
long as you are in this world, it is a pretty dif- 
ficult thing to do what he has done — drop out 
of every man’s knowledge ? ’ 

“ ‘ What is his name ? ’ I asked : for there was 
something interesting in the thought of a lost 
man, though I didn’t suppose that I knew any- 
thing about him. 

‘‘ ^ David Power,’ he said, in a solemn 
voice. 

“ Then I tell you, Bethia, I was surprised. 

‘ David Power/ I said, ‘ why I know where 
David Power lives, and his daughter is in my 
house now.’ 

“ The Judge fairly jumped, Bethia, he was 
so astonished. ‘You don’t mean it,’ he said. 

‘ Why, Miss Jemima, there isn’t a man in Hope- 
dale or Eestvale that knows anything about 
him.’ 

“ ‘ Humph,’ I said. ‘ I don’t know as that is 
so very strange. I suppose the old men that 
knew him are most all dead, and the young 


284 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


men never were interested in him. We can 
usually keep track of people if we care anything 
about them.’ 

The Judge laughed. ^ I don’t know but 
you are right. Miss Jemima,’ he allowed. And 
then he said, in a stern voice, just as if he were 
giving an order in a court room, ^ Bring David 
Power’s daughter to Hopedale this afternoon. 
I will meet you at three o’clock in Judge Plum- 
mer’s office. The business is very important.’ 
And then off he went, and I came home as fast 
as I could to tell you. What do you suppose 
it means, Bethia ? ” 

During Miss Jemima’s long story Bethia had 
scarcely stirred. While she listened to it she 
was at the same time recalling all that had been 
dark and sorrowful in her father’s life. The 
stolen money was uppermost in her mind. 
Now, after all these years, was her father’s in- 
i^ocence to be proved, and the shadow that had 
darkened his life to be lifted. She hardly dared 
to indulge that hope, and yet she clung to it. 
She could not speak but Miss Jemima scarcely 
noticed her silence. She had a delightful sense 
of being associated with a mystery, and she 
was so much interested in her own surmises 
that she needed no suggestions from any one 
else. Presently however a question she could 
not answer to her own satisfaction occurred 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED, 


285 


to her, and with a perplexed face she looked 
at Bethia. 

“ Bethia,” she exclaimed, “ there is just one 
thing that I don’t understand. Now, of course, 
I have never spoken of any one but Job Fuller 
in connection with Betty and Loneman’s Island, 
and Mrs. Gordon and her husband, and Mr. 
Douglas, have been a^vay most of the time since 
you came here, and when they were here they 
never gossiped with the townspeople, and I 
know that they never would mention your 
father to anyone. But I cannot understand 
why some of the men who used to know your 
father — by name at least — and who have seen 
you haven’t discovered that you are his daughter. 
Why I should think it would have been known 
in the post office if nowhere else.” 

Bethia sighed. “ All my letters home have 
gone in envelopes addressed to J ob, and I have 
never mentioned Loneman’s Island nor my 
father’s name to any one,” she said, soberly. 

For pity’s sake,” Miss Jemima exclaimed, 
“ What has made you so secret ? ” 

“ Mother advised it. She said it would pre- 
vent gossip,” Bethia answered. 

Gossip about what ? I’d like to know,” Miss 
Jemima said, curiously. “ I don’t suppose your 
father has anything to conceal, but when folks 
are so afraid of the speech of people there is 


286 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

generally a dark spot somewhere ' in their 
history.” 

“ My father is a good man, he has never done 
anything to make his history dark,” Bethia said, 
proudly. But in spite of her confidence in her 
father she dreaded her interview with Judge 
Osborne ; and she waited for it, as those wait 
who know that they are soon to hear tidings 
that will change the whole course and color of 
life for their loved ones and themselves. 

Punctually at three o’clock Miss Jemima and 
Bethia entered Judge Plummer’s ofiice. Judge 
Osborne was already there ; he was a gray- 
haired man, at least ten years older than her 
father, Bethia decided, but his eyes were bright 
and keen, and his movements full of energy. 
With just a word of salutation he plunged into 
business. 

“ You are David Power’s daughter ? ” he said, 
as he looked searchingly at Bethia. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“ Where is your father ? ” 

“ On Loneman’s Island. He is the lighthouse 
keeper there.” 

“ How long has he been there ? ” 

“ About twenty years.” 

“ Do you know anything about his life, be- 
fore he went to that island ? ” 

“ A little,” Bethia replied, in some doubt as 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 287 

to what she ought to say. “ He was born here 
in Hopedale.” 

“ Yes. What were his parents’ names ? ” 

‘‘His mother’s name was Bethia, and his 
father’s name David.” 

“ David, the son of David and Bethia Power,” 
the Judge said, gravely. “ Yes, your father is 
the man I want. Miss Power. Hot for any- 
thing that you need to feel troubled about, 
though,” he hastened to say, as he noticed 
-- Bethia’s pale face. 

“Well, what do you want him for, any- 
way?” Miss Jemima demanded, boldly. 

“To restore to him a lost inheritance, and his 
good name,” the Judge replied. 

“ O — oh,” Bethia cried, “ can you do that ? ” 

“ I can, and I will,” the Judge promised. 

“ How,” he proceeded, in a peremptory but 
kind voice, “ compose yourself, Miss Power, and 
I will tell you a little story.” 

With a determined effort Bethia controlled 
her agitation, and the Judge went gravely on. 

“ About twenty-five years ago a singular rob- 
bery occurred here in Hopedale. Ten thousand 
dollars were stolen one evening, taken from a 
man’s locked desk, between the hours of six 
and ten.” 

“ Why, I never heard of it,” Miss Jemima 
exclaimed. 


288 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


“ No, it was shortly before, you came to 
Eestvale.’’ The Judge waited a second, and 
looked sharply at Bethia. 

“You have heard of it,” he said, with con- 
fidence. 

“ Yes, my mother told me,” Bethia murmured. 

“Then you know the circumstances that 
fastened suspicion on your father.” 

“ Yes,” she said again. 

The Judge turned to Miss Jemima. “The 
money was paid in the presence of Alonzo Steele, 
and his nephew, David Power,” he explained. 
“ The payer and Alonzo Steele had no difficulty 
in proving their innocence. David Power Avas 
accused, and tried ; and, although he escaped 
conviction, from that time to the present his 
good name, here in Hopedale, has been dark- 
ened by doubts and suspicions. I knew him 
well ; I never believed him guilty ; and I tried 
hard to help him, but I could not establish his 
innocence. He was a proud man, with a high 
sense of honor, and I am not surprised that he 
desired to be forgotten in this town where he 
had suffered so much.” 

“ And now is everything explained ? ” Miss 
Jemima inquired, earnestly. 

“ Yes, everything. To-morrow I shall pub- 
lish in the Hopedale ‘ Courier ’ Alonzo Steele’s 
confession.” 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 289 

“ Alonzo Steele ; was he the thief ? ” Miss 
Jemima exclaimed. 

Judge Osborne nodded. “ One week ago,” 
he continued, “ he telegraphed that he was sick 
and wished to see me. I arrived at his house 
the night he died. He was weak but perfectly 
sensible. The end was not expected so soon, 
but he knew he could not live, and to the doc- 
tor and myself he made a confession that I 
wrote down and he signed, you can read it all 
in the ‘ Courier ’ to-morrow : I will just give 
you its substance now. He said that when he 
saw that money locked in the desk he had no 
thought of stealing it. When he left the house 
he started for the stable, intending to look at a 
horse there that was offered for sale. On his 
way he noticed that a door in the back of the 
house was open ; he knew, that that door led 
into a hall that was rarely entered, and that 
in the hall, close by the parlor door, was a dark 
closet. Ho one was in sight : the evil thought 
occurred to him how easy it would be to enter 
the parlor and steal tliat money. The next 
minute — almost, as he said, before he had time 
to realize what he was doing — he entered the 
hall and hid in the closet. It was a sad illus- 
tration of the truth of Shakespeare’s words : 

“ ‘ The sight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes ill deeds done.’ 

19 


290 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


was near supper time; he had only to 
wait a few minutes before he heard the owner 
of the money called to supper. A few mo- 
ments more and he knew from the sounds that 
the man and his wife — they were the sole occu- 
pants of the house — were at the table. Then 
with a stealthy step he stole into the parlor. He 
had a patented instrument in his pocket with 
which he easily broke the lock of the desk : in 
another minute the money was in his pocket. 
He left the house, as he entered it, unseen by 
any one. All was done, he thought, in less than 
twenty minutes. He started immediately for 
Restvale, and it Avas easy, when he was ques- 
tioned, for him to prove an alibi.” 

The Judge paused, but neither Bethia nor 
Miss Jemima spoke, and, in a moment, he re- 
sumed. 

“ That was a bad act, committed by a bad 
man. Let us be thankful that he had conscience 
enough to wish that money restored with inter- 
est to its owner, Avho is, I am glad to say, still 
living.” 

Bethia sprang from her chair. And noAV 
my father is entirely free from suspicion,” she 
cried. “ Oh, I must go and tell him.” 

‘‘ Yes, you shall go,” the Judge promised, 
‘‘ but you must listen to me a little while longer, 
for I have not quite finished my story. You 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 


291 


know, together with his good name, your father 
is to have a lost inheritance restored to him.” 

“ Did Alonzo Steele rob him of that, too ? ” 
Miss Jemima asked, indignantly. 

“ So he confessed,” Judge Osborne answered. 
“ David Power was Steele’s brother’s acknowl- 
edged heir ; but when that brother died, more 
than twenty-five years ago, no will could be 
found, consequently Alonzo, as his nearest of 
kin inherited his property. Now Alonzo had 
no family, but he has left a will giving all his 
estate — and it is a large one — to benevolent 
societies.” 

“ Did he think by that will to gain heaven ? ” 
Miss Jemima demanded, sharply. 

The Judge raised his hand. “ It is not for us 
to judge him, now,” he said, gravely, “ let me 
finish my story. The night he died, I was with 
him, and he told me of his will, but he said that 
the next day — we did not expect the end to 
come as it did — he would have it destroyed. 
He said that if David Power could be found 
he wished him to have everything he possessed. 
And then he confessed that his brother did 
make a will bequeathing everything to David ; 
and that shortly before he died he tried to tell 
him where it was, but could say nothing intel- 
ligible. Alonzo thought he said that David 
had it, and it was in the bottom — he could not 


292 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND, 


understand of what. When, after his brother’s 
death, his will was called for, it was not among 
his papers, and to Steele’s surprise David knew 
nothing about it. Then Alonzo Steele was 
tempted, and he yielded to the temptation. 
He concealed his knowledge of the will ; he 
never repeated his brother’s words — ^ about the 
bottom of the old ’ — that might then have fur- 
nished a clue, and he took possession of all his 
brother’s property.” 

Miss Jemima drew a long breath. There 
is just one thing in this world that never seems 
to be in a hurry, and that is justice,” she said, 
bitterly. 

“Hush,” the Judge said, soberly, “let us 
remember 

“ ‘ Though the mills of God grind slowly , yet they grind 
exceeding small. 

Though with patience he stands waiting, with ex- 
actness grinds he all.’ 

From the time that Alonzo Steele concealed 
his knowledge of that will, he never had a 
happy moment. Weakened in principle by 
that dishonest act — for such it was in God’s 
sight — he was the more easily tempted to com- 
mit another ; and a year or two afterward he 
stole the money. His bitter consciousness that 
he had wronged David Power now made him 


A MYSTEBY EXPLAINED, 


293 


hate him, and he did all he could to fasten sus- 
picion on him. He made an innocent man 
suffer ; but he himself suffered the tortures of 
the guilty. Let us leave him with the God 
whose scales weigh the hearts of men, as well as 
their actions.” 

Ho one spoke immediately, but soon Miss 
Jemima exclaimed : “ Well, I suppose it is use- 
less to grieve over what is past, but is there 
really any chance for David Power now ? ” 

“ As regards the property ? ” the J udge an- 
swered. “ Yes, there is every chance, if we can 
find that will. If we cannot find it, the estate 
will be divided like an orange into quarters and 
half quarters, and go to the societies named in 
Alonzo’s will. How, Miss Power, I wish your 
father to know all this immediately, and if he 
can suggest any place or box as a probable or 
even possible hiding place for that will, I trust 
he will do so without delay.” 

“ How soon must the estate be settled ? ” 
Miss Jemima inquired now. 

“ The law allows a delay of a year.” 

“ A good many lost wills can be found in a 
year,” Miss Jemima said, hopefully. ‘^Lost 
things have a strange way of stumbling into the 
light, and if that will has not been destroyed, I 
feel sure that we will find it before you have to 
quarter the orange. Judge Osborne.” 


294 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


I hope so,” Judge Osborne replied, “ if only 
for this young lady’s sake.” 

Bethia did not heed his words. All her 
thoughts were with her father ; of any possible 
advantage to herself from that will she neither 
thought nor cared. “ I am going home to- 
morrow,” she said, while she looked at the 
Judge as if waiting for further directions. 

Judge Osborne nodded approvingly. I 
will write to your father,” he said, “ and I trust 
he will come immediately to Hopedale. I do 
not suppose ” — he added with a smile — “ that 
you can find that will on Loneman’s Island — 
that would indeed be a strange stumbling into 
the light — but you must be, like the children 
when they play ^ I spy,’ on your watch for hid- 
ing places ; for we must do everything lawful 
to find it.” 

‘‘ I don’t suppose you can do anything more 
to-day ?” Miss Jemima said, questioningly. 

“No ; I am afraid I cannot,” the Judge an- 
SAvered. “ By the way,” he asked, pleasantly, 
“ Avhere is your sister. Miss Betty ? ” 

“ Married, and living on Loneman’s Island.” 

“ That island ought to have its name 
changed,” the Judge said, Avith a laugh. “ Pray, 
how did Miss Betty find her Avay there ? ” 

“ She folloAved the Gordons.” 

“The Gordons? Oh, yes, I remember. 


A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 


295 


They are the rich Scotch people who own the 
beautiful place opposite your cottage. Where 
are they now?” 

“ In Scotland, for the summer. Mrs. Gor- 
don’s brother, Mr. Allan Douglas ” 

remember him well,” the Judge inter- 
rupted. “He was a splendid young fellow. 
What’s become of him ? ” 

“ He has been in Scotland for the last three 
yearSj attending to some business there.”. 

“ I hope he doesn’t intend to remain there,” 
the Judge said, jealously. “America doesn’t 
want to lose any of her adopted sons who are 
true and good men.” 

“ He is coming back with the Gordons in 
September,” Miss Jemima answered. 

“ I am glad to hear it. Well, good-bye. Miss 
Power, find that will if you can,” the Judge 
said, in one breathless sentence, as he opened 
the door for his visitors. 

“ Well,” Miss Jemima said that evening, as 
she and Bethia sat together in the summer twi- 
light, “ I do wonder, Bethia, just where that 
will will be found.” 

“Do you really suppose it ever will be 
found ? ” Bethia asked, in a doubtful voice. 

“ Of course I do. It has been concealed a 
long time, I know, but the covered things are 
all sure to be revealed some day.” 


296 ON LON EM AN ISLAND, 

I am almost afraid to think about it,” Bethia 
said. 

“ Why, it seems to me that it’s a very pleas- 
ant thing to think about,” Miss Jemima ob- 
served. 

“ Ye-es, but I am so afraid I will be disap- 
pointed,” Bethia said, dolefully. 

“ Disappointed,” Miss Jemima echoed. 
‘‘ Bethia Power, I thought you knew better 
than to talk about disappointments. I Avonder 
Avhat Mr. Douglas would say if he could hear 
you.” 

I knoAv,” Bethia said, while her face bright- 
ened. “ He would say that there are no disap- 
pointments for God’s children, who realize his 
presence, and know that he is love. He Avould 
tell us that our disappointments are often God’s 
kindest blessings.” 

That sounds like him,” Miss Jemima said, 
in a satisfied voice. Bethia,” she said, in a 
moment, we murmur often because God seems 
to withhold good from us ; but if Ave under- 
stood our lives — as we Avill some day — Ave Avould 
know that God’s withholdings are sometimes 
his best givings.” 

Bethia smiled as she lit the lamp. “ That is 
a good word, Miss Jemima,” she said, “ and we 
Avill let it be the last for to-night.” 


CHAPTEE XIX. 


IN A QUEER PLAGE. 

“ Gcx)d tidings every day, 

God’s messengers ride fast, 

Thanks be to God for all they say. 

There is such noise on the highway 
Let us keep still while they ride past.” 

Helen Hunt Jackson, 

TT was a June night on Loneman’s Island, and 
once again, as in the years gone by, the 
moonlight lay like molten gold on the heaving 
waters of the Atlantic ; illuminated the white 
sands of the silent beach ; and threw its soft, 
fair light over the little group sitting close to- 
gether on the stoop of David Power’s house. 
Father, mother, and daughter ; after long 
years of separation they were once more united. 
Those years had touched and changed them 
all. 

David Power and his wife looked older. 
There were more silvery threads in their hair, 
and a few more lines of care could, perhaps, be 
traced in their faces. JSut they were still erect 

297 


298 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 


and strong, and still young enough to look for- 
ward hopefully to the coining years. 

It was only half an hour since Bethia’s ar- 
rival ; but her mind was full of the joyful news 
she had to tell, and now, too impatient to wait 
longer, she began eagerly. “ Father, I have 
something to tell you.” 

David started from the happy dream into 
which he had fallen. 

“ Have you, Beth ? ” he said, fondly. “ Well, 
my little girl, I guess it is father’s right to tell 
you something first. That debt, your mother 
once told you about, is all paid now. The man 
I owed it to has lived in Denver a good many 
years ; we haven’t met since I failed ; but I 
have sent him my checks regularly, and a month 
ago I sent the last one, and now I owe no man 
in this world a dollar.” It was good to see the 
light in David Power’s eyes as he made that 
statement. Bethia saw it, and her own eyes 
reflected it ; but before she could speak Mrs. 
Power exclaimed : I hope we can give you 
everything you want now, Bethia. You ought 
to have a good many wants, I think, for you 
have done with very little while you have been 
away.” 

“ Wants that are not indulged are like little 
dwarfs, they don’t grow fast. It is the in- 
dulged wants that never find a coat large 


IN A QUEER PLACE. 


299 


enough to cover them,” Bethia said, brightly. 
“ Mrs. Gordon has given me a good many pretty 
things, you know, and then I have never al- 
lowed myself to covet the things I knew I 
couldn’t have, and so it has been easy to do 
Avithout them.” 

“ I am glad to hear that, Beth, for it is cov- 
eting that causes most of the sin and unhappi- 
ness in this world, I believe,” David Power 
said, with a touch of sadness in his voice. 

Bethia’s keen ear detected that sadness. 

O father,” she exclaimed, ‘‘ you must listen 
to what I have to tell you noAv. It is some- 
thing that will make you glad,” and in a few 
earnest and impressive sentences she told the 
story that Judge Osborne had related to her. 
While she Avas speaking David sat with his 
head bowed and his face shielded by his hands ; 
and for some moments after the story was 
told there was a profound silence in the little 
porch. 

Presently David looked up; his eyes were 
moist, but his face wore the high, uplifted look 
of a man to Avhom God seemed very near. 

^^My good name is cleared,” he said, in a 
tone that was solemn in its joy, thank God, 
thank God.” 

Mrs. PoAver moved uneasily. “ To think that 
Alonzo Steele could let you suffer so all these 


300 ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND. 

years,” she began, in an indignant tone, but 
David checked her. 

“ Hush,” he said, in a solemn whisper, “ Hush, 
leave him with God. My good name is cleared ; 
I am satisfied.” 

I would be better satisfied if that will could 
be found,” Bethia said, in a few minutes, break- 
ing, with an effort, a silence that was almost 
painful in its solemnity. What do you sup- 
pose your uncle did with it, father ? ” 

David shook his head. “ It is impossible for 
me to say,” he answered. I am glad to know 
that he made a will in my favor. He always 
told me that he should do so, and I never could 
understand Avhy he didn’t keep his promise. 
Now that it is all explained, I am satisfied.” 

“ But I am not, and I shall not be until that 
will is found,” Bethia said, firmly. Father, 
can’t you think of some almost impossible place 
where it may be hidden ? ” 

David looked thoughtful. No,” he said 
soon, ‘‘ I am sorry, Bethia, for your sake, but I 
can’t think of any place — ‘ In the bottom of the 
old ’—was what he said, you say, and that to 
me doesn’t suggest anything. Since my uncle 
cannot come back and finish his sentence, I 
believe we had better think no more about 
it.” 

“ Father,” Bethia exclaimed, you have lived 


IN A QUEER PLACE. 


301 


too long on this island. You don’t care enough 
about the things the world values most ; you 
are too ready to give up the fight for your 
rights.” 

David raised his hand and pointed across the 
dunes to the beach. 

“ Look at that ocean, Beth,” he said, gently. 
“ Do you see what a sea of glass mingled with 
fire it is to-night ? Do you hear how solemnly 
it chants of God’s omnipotence ? Do you think 
I have lived within sight and hearing of it for 
twenty years and not learned the true worth of 
most of the world’s valued things ? ” 

Bethia looked off at the glimmering waters, 
and then turned and nestled closer to her father. 
“ You didn’t alwaj^s talk like that, father,” she 
said, softly. 

“No,” David answered, “I didn’t always 
know how to tell the true things from the 
sham, Beth ; but since the summer Mr. Douglas 
was here, I have been thinking and learning 
many things.” 

“ What have you learned, father ? tell me,” 
Bethia whispered. 

“ This for one tjiing, Beth,” David answered, 
gravely. “ God has put his seal upon all the 
true things, and made them lasting. All truth 
is safe with him, nothing can be hidden that 
will not — when it pleases him — be brought 


302 


ON LONEMAN ISLAND. 


to light. You need not worry about that will, 
my little girl.” 

“No,” Bethia interrupted, in an earnest 
voice, “ no, I won’t worry, father, but, I give 
you fair warning, I am going to do all I can to 
find that will, and I am going to insist upon 
your going to see Judge Osborne. I believe 
all small rights are a part of the great Bight ; 
and I think we ought to maintain them.” 

“ Good-morning, Bethia.” 

Bethia was standing in the open door of the 
sunny kitchen. She turned quickly, and met 
Job’s smiling eyes. His honest face was as 
sunshiny as of old ; and looking at him it was 
easy to believe that each year in passing had 
added to his happiness. 

“ Don’t you want to go along ? ” he asked. 
“ Betty wants a bluefish for dinner, and I am 
goin’ to try to catch one.” 

Bethia caught up her mother’s sunbonnet, and 
the next minute she was walking with Job 
across the green dunes. 

“ This is like old times,” she said, joyfully, 
as Job helped her into his boat and pushed off. 
“ I have been out to sea a good many times 
with you, haven’t I, Job?” she asked, with a 
happy laugh. 

“ It would take a good many fingers to count 
’em all,” Job answered. “ I wonder, Bethia, if 


IN A QUEER PLACE. 303 

you remember the last time you went with 
me? ” 

“No,” she said, carelessly. “What makes 
you remember it. Job ? ” 

Job mused a moment. “ I suppose, because 
that morning you were the most discontented 
little girl I ever saw, Bethia.” 

Bethia laughed. “ I should feel more flat- 
tered then if you had forgotten about it,” she 
said, playfully. 

Job did not speak for a minute. He was 
busy preparing his line ; but as soon as that was 
done, he asked, gravely, “ Are you better con- 
tented now, Bethia ? ” 

Bethia looked at him and then she looked 
into the dancing water. “I believe so,” she 
answered, soberly. “ I have had the chance I 
wanted, you know.” 

“ That was one chance,” Job said, shrewdly. 
“ I suppose you begin to see a good many 
other chances that you want now, don’t you, 
Bethia?” 

Bethia laughed. “ Job,” she said, “ I believe 
you have been studying human nature while 
I’ve been away.” 

It was pleasant to hear Job’s low, happy 
chuckle. “ I’ve had a good chance too,” he an- 
swered. “You know I’ve had Betty to teach 
me.” 


304 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

“ You have been happy, Job ? ” 

Happy ! ” The flash in Job’s eyes was 
bright as a sunbeam. “ Happy don’t begin to 
express it,” he said. “ I sometimes wish I knew 
enough to invent a new word, Bethia.” 

“ What would you like it to mean. Job ? ” 

“ It is hard to tell, it would need to mean so 
much,” Job said, gayly. “ When you come 
across a word, Bethia, that means gladder than 
gladdest, and happier than happiest, and joy- 
fuller than joy fullest, then you must remember 
that word for me, and then, maybe. I’ll be able 
to tell you just how happy I am.” 

“ I am afraid you will have to invent that 
word. Job. Most folks don’t want a stronger 
word than happy. They are never quite ready 
to use even that.” 

“ I am sorry for ’em,” Job said, compassion- 
ately. I hope you ain’t one of those ‘ most 
folks,’ Bethia.” 

“ I don’t know, I am afraid I haven’t got 
beyond plain happy yet,” Bethia said, thought- 
fully. 

Job looked at her. ‘‘ I did hope you’d come 
honie satisfied,” he said. “ But it does seem to 
me that you are still wanting something — I 
wonder ” — and the honest voice grew very 
gentle — ‘‘ if it is anything I can help you to 
get.” 


IN A QUEER PLACE. 


305 


“ I am afraid not, Job. I don’t suppose you 
know where to find a lost will.” 

‘‘ A will,” Job echoed. Who’s lost a will ? 
I hope you ain’t felt the need of makin’ one, 
Bethia.” 

Bethia’s laugh was cheery enough now. 

“ No,” she answered. I will wait until I 
have something to bequeath. But, Job,” she 
continued, “ I am really troubled about a will 
that was made and hidden in something — in 
the bottom of an old — something — I can’t im- 
agine what — a great many years ago. If we 
could find it my father would come into pos- 
session of his old home ; and if we cannot find 
it — ” Bethia paused, she did not like to con- 
template the alternative. 

“What will he have, then?” Job asked. 

“ Nothing,” Bethia said, shortly. 

“ That won’t keep him awake nights plan- 
ning how to take care of it,” Job said, wisely. 
“ But, Bethia, you say it was in the bottom of 
something old. Do you suppose it is on this 
island?” 

“ I don’t see how it can be. Job. Father 
doesn’t think of anything or place where it can 
be.” 

Job let his oars rest in the rowlocks, and 
while the boat rocked gently on the summer 
sea, he meditated. “ Bethia,” he said, suddenly, 

20 


306 ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 

“ I ain’t no lawyer, but I sometimes have an 
idea. Don’t you suppose that ‘ old something ’ 
was a box ? ” 

It does seem probable that it was, Job, but 
where can it be now ? If it had been left in my 
father’s old home I am sure it would have been 
found.” 

“ That’s so,” Job said, but I suppose the box 
could be carried away from the old home, 
couldn’t it ? ” 

‘‘ Where to ? ” Bethia demanded. 

Job did not answer her immediately. 

Bethia,” he said soon, “ I b’lieve I’ve heard 
your father tell about that wiU. It was one 
they looked for and couldn’t find when his 
uncle died, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes, Job.” 

“And that was before your father came 
here, an’ now you’ve heard that that will was 
put in the bottom of something old. Now, 
Bethia, I don’t want to raise no false hopes ; 
but I know that your father did bring some 
old things with him when he first came to 
Loneman’s Island, and if I were you I’d just 
look through them all.” 

“ But everything he brought here has been 
in use all these years,” Bethia objected. 
“Father must know every book and box he 
owns through and through. How could any- 


IN A QUEER PLACE. 


307 


thing be concealed in things you use every day, 
and not be discovered ? ” 

“ That sounds like a reasonable question, I’ll 
allow, Bethia, but strange things do happen 
sometimes, you know,” Job answered, sagely. 

Now the Cap’n’s always been other-worldish, 
an’ — he’s grown more so since you’ve been away. 
I don’t believe he ever was very sharp about 
his interests, an’ he’s less so than ever now. If 
he looked in things, an’ didn’t see anything in 
’em, he’d never think of turning ’em wrong side 
out an’ bottom side up, but ” — and Job laughed 
a little now — “ that is the way I’ve seen Betty 
look for things, an’ it’s my belief that it is a 
pretty good way, an’ so I’ll jest advise you, 
Bethia, to go home and make a clean search 
through everything your father brought from 
his old home. Lost things do come to light in 
strange places sometimes, you know.” 

An hour later, and Bethia burst impulsively 
into the room where her father sat reading a 
paper. 

“Father,” she cried, “what did you bring 
with you when you came to Loneman’s Island ? ” 
“ Nothing of much consequence, Beth,” 
David answered, carelessly. 

“ Did you bring anything that had ever be- 
longed to your uncle ? ” 

“ Why, yes, a few old things that he gave me 


308 ON LON EM AN 'S ISLAND, 

before he died, but they’ve all been in daily use 
all the years we have been here. Beth, that 
will — for I suppose that is what you are think- 
ing of — can’t possibly be in anything I brought 
here.” 

Bethia nodded her head. “ Yes, I am think- 
ing of that will,” she said, with energy. “ Tell 
me some of the things you brought here, 
father.” 

“ Well,” David said, quietly, I brought a 
little old china — but a will couldn’t be lost in 
dishes, you know — and I brought a few old 
books, but when you were a little girl you 
looked them through every day : the will was 
never hidden in one of them.” 

Bethia stood still for a few minutes. 

“ Father,” she asked suddenly, “ did you bring 
any old things that your uncle prized? any 
heirlooms, you know? ” 

David smiled. I brought the old Devolu- 
tion,” he said. 

“ The old Kevolution,” Bethia repeated. 

“ Yes. It is the box I keep my papers in, 
you know. Do you think the will can be in 
it ? ” David asked, playfully. 

« Why do you call it the old Kevolution ? ” 
Bethia asked, quickly. 

‘‘ Because it went through the Kevolution,” 
David explained. “ It had a false bottom, and 


IN A QUEER PLACE. 


309 


your great, great, great grandfather kept his 
gold in it. One day a company of British sol- 
diers searched the house. One of them found 
‘ the old Revolution,’ and in the twinkling of 
an eye he ripped out the false bottom and 
transferred the gold to his own pocket.” * 

“ But the box was mended, wasn’t it ? ” 
Bethia asked, eagerly. 

Yes, with an ordinary bottom. It was pre- 
served on account of its history, and not long 
before his death my uncle gave it to me. I can 
see him now,” David said, dreamily. “ He was 
standing by his desk, and he took out that box 
and handed it to me. He laughed a little when 
he did it, and he told me to keep it safe ; for 
though it no longer held my great, great, great 
grandfather’s gold it was still quite valuable.” 

“ What was in it ? ” Bethia asked, excitedly, 
nothing.” 

“ Then why did he say that it was valuable ? ” 
I don’t know, and I confess I have often 
wondered what he meant,” David answered. 
“ I have always thought that he was going to 
say more ; but some one interrupted him ; and 
that very day I went away from home, and 
while I was absent he died quite suddenly.” 

“ Where is that box now ? ” Bethia asked, 
quickly. 


This story is true. 


310 ON L ON EM AN ’ S ISLAND, 

“ Where I have kept it for more than twenty 
years, on the shelf in my bedroom.” 

May I get it ? ” Bethia asked, breathlessly. 

David laughed. Yes,” he said, of course 
you may get it, Beth ; but you won’t find a 
fortune in it.” 

Bethia ran to the bedroom, in a minute she 
was back with the box in her hand. Sitting 
down she examined it carefully. It was made 
of mahogany, but it had a pine bottom closely 
nailed in. She took a fine needle and tried to 
crowd it into a tiny crack that she had dis- 
covered. The next instant she uttered a cry 
of surprise. 

“ O father,” she exclaimed, how blind you 
have been all these j^ears ! This box must have 
a false bottom, for that needle has slipped in 
through this crack, and yet — it is not in the 

‘‘ Let me have it,” David said, in a startled 
voice. 

Bethia gave it to him. “ Open it, open it 
quick,” she panted. 

David took his knife and without speaking 
drew out the nails that fastened in the pine 
bottom. It dropped on the fioor, and with it 
dropped a paper carefully folded and yellow 
with age. 

Without a word David picked it up and 
handed it to Bethia. 


IN A QUEER PLACE, 


311 


Kead that,’’ he said, pointing to a few closely 
written words in one corner of the folded paper. 
With trembling lips Bethia read : 

“ The last will of Egbert Steele.” 

It is found,” she whispered ; and David 
Power answered : 

« Thank God.’' 


CHAPTEE XX. 

ALL THINGS SETTLED. 

“ The sweetest lives are those to duty wed, 

Whose deeds both great and small 
Are close-knit strands of an unbroken thread, 
Where love ennobles all. 

The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells ; 

The Book of Life the shining record tells.” 

Anonymous. 

rriHE June days that followed the recovery of 
the will were eventful ones for the two quiet 
families on Loneman’s Island. David Power 
went immediately to Hopedale and proved 
without difficulty his right to his uncle’s estate. 
It was a large and valuable property, and David 
felt like a rich man. 

And now we can afford to make plans,” he 
said, on the afternoon of the day he returned 
from Hopedale, when the two families were 
sitting together. ‘‘ Mother ” — and his voice was 
tender in its gentleness — “you have made a 
home for us here for more than twenty years, 
and it is your right to speak first. What shall 
we do?” 

312 


ALL THINGS SETTLED. 


313 


Mrs. PoAver smiled ; but her eyes were moist, 
and her voice trembled slightly as she an- 
swered, “ I don’t know, David. I have been a 
poor woman so long that it isn’t easy now for 
me to make plans like a rich one. But, I sup- 
pose ” — and she drew a long breath — “ I sup- 
pose I Avill soon get used to the change.” 

“ Of course you will,” Miss Jemima, who had 
returned with David, said consolingly. 

“ There never was a woman yet, I guess, 
who couldn’t get used to being rich.” 

I suppose so,” Mrs. Power sighed. “ Well, 
David,” she said, more cheerfully, “ I think I 
could rather leave the planning to you and 
Bethia. I will be pretty sure to like what you 
like. Haven’t you thought of something ? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” David admitted, “ I couldn’t help 
thinking of a good many things I would like 
to do, when I went over the old place. I should 
like to go back there. There are two good 
houses on the farm ; if we live in one, and Job 
in the other, then, even away from Loneman’s 
Island, I guess we can be pretty happy ; though 
I do suppose,” and David sighed, mournfully, 
‘‘ I do suppose it will be hard to live where we 
can’t see the ocean.” 

‘‘Job in the other.” If David had thrown 
a bomb at their feet, two of his hearers would 
have been little more surprised. 


314 ON LONEMAN ISLAND. 

“You will go. Job, won’t you?” Bethia 
asked, joyfully. 

“I don’t know,” Job said, slowly. “The 
Cap’n’s pow’ful good to think of it, but then 
I’m used to this island. I’m used to the lamp 
and the water : and there’s the fish an’ the 
crabs. I’m used to catchin’ them ; but I don’t 
know as I’d ever get used to a farm. Still ” — 
and a little note of pleasure brightened his 
sober voice — “ it would be sort of pleasant to 
live where I could see the green things grow 
easy. What do you say, Betty ? ” 

Mrs. Betty was holding her little three-year- 
old daughter in her lap. She gave her husband 
a quick glance, and then said, demurely, “ I 
believe I know a good opportunity when I see 
it.” 

“And you think this would be one?” Job 
asked, anxiously. 

Mrs. Betty looked down on her little daugh- 
ter, and gently pressed her tiny hand to her 
lips. “ I expect Kitty will have to be educated,” 
she said, quietly. 

“ That makes it an opportunity then, I 
reckon,” Job said, with a laugh that covered 
a pang of regret. “ Well, Cap’n, it has been 
shoulder to shoulder through a good many 
years; and it shall be shoulder to shoulder 
until the end, if you say so.” 


ALL THINGS SETTLED, 315 

“I do say so, Job, old comrade,” David 
answered, with strong emotion. 

“ When must we move ? ” Mrs. Power asked 
soon. 

“ Oh, I hope not this summer,” Bethia ex- 
claimed. ^^We can spend this summer here, 
can’t we, father ? ” 

“ Yes, Beth,” David answered, in a pleased 
voice, “ since you, who always wanted .to leave 
the island, are now so anxious to stay. I think 
we will arrange not to move until the last of 
September.” 

The next morning, while Job was up in the 
tower polishing the great lamp, Bethia came 
up with Miss Jemima. 

“ It is fine up here, isn’t it. Miss Jemima ? ” 
the girl said, as she stepped out on to the little 
balcony, that surrounded the lamp, and stood 
there looking at the sea. 

^‘Fine,” Miss Jemima repeated, while she 
panted for breath, after her tiresome climb up 
the long stairs. “Well, yes, I suppose it is. 
Getting up here, though, is something like 
getting to heaven — you have to make a great 
effort not to fail on the way.” 

Bethia smiled, and then, with her eyes still 
fastened on the ocean, she said, dreamily, “ I 
wish Mr. Douglas was here to talk to us about 
that.” 


316 


ON LONEMAN^S ISLAND. 


“ That is a pleasant welcome home,” said a 
voice they all remembered ; and turning quickly 
they saw Mr. Douglas standing at the head of 
the stairs. 

“Allan Douglas,” Miss Jemima cried, “are 
we all dreaming, or are you really here? ” 

“I am really here,” Mr. Douglas said, as 
with outstretched hands he came towards them. 
“Miss Jemima, Miss Bethia, and Job, how are 
you all, and do you imagine you are half as 
glad to welcome me home, as I am to be at 
home and with you once more ? ” 

“We won’t waste words trying to answer 
such an unreasonable question,” Miss Jemima 
said, bluntly, though her eyes shone with pleas- 
ure. “ When did you come ? ” 

“ To New York, a week ago. I had business 
to attend to there : when it was accomplished 
my eyes ached for the sight of the old scenes 
and friends on Loneman’s Island, and I came 
here without delay. I have seen Mrs. Betty ; 
she has promised to take care of me, and now, 
for a few weeks, I hope to have a real boy’s 
vacation with you all.” 

“ We must make the most of this summer,” 
Job said, regretfully. 

“ Why do you emphasize this summer ? ” Mr. 
Douglas asked. “Won’t there be other sum- 
mers just as pleasant to follow this one ? ” 


ALL THINGS SETTLED. 


317 


“ Perhaps. K^ot on Loneman’s Island though. 
We are going to leave here, Mr. Douglas.” 

So I have just heard from Captain Power 
and Mrs. Betty. I hope you are not sorry to 
go,” Mr. Douglas answered, as he looked with 
eyes, that smiled and yet were full of sympathy 
at Job. 

It is like leaving an old friend to leave that,” 
and Job pointed to the ocean, so calm that 
morning that it seemed impossible for wind and 
storm ever to lash it into fury. “ But then, I 
do suppose,” he continued, meditatively, “ that 
I haven’t any call to feel sorry, for it seems right 
for us to go.” 

‘‘ Then I wouldn’t regret going,” Mr. Doug- 
las said, kindly. “ The thing that it is right for 
us to do is the thing that God always follows 
with his blessing.” 

“I’ll think of that, whenever I feel like 
being homesick for this island,” Job prom- 
ised. 

“ You won’t be homesick if you will just deter- 
mine that you won’t be,” Miss Jemima said, 
practically. “ Are Mr. and Mrs. Gordon with 
you, Mr. Douglas ? ” 

“ No, I left them in Scotland ; they are com- 
ing home in September. Miss Bethia,” and Mr. 
Douglas turned smilingly to the young girl, 
“ may I congratulate you ? ” 


318 ON LONEMAN ISLAND, 

Is there any reason ? ” Bethia said, a little 
awkwardly. 

“ I think so. Your father has told me about 
the will, and I know that you have graduated. 
Aren’t those two good reasons for congratula- 
tions ? ” 

I know I am very glad for both,” Bethia 
said, with a frank smile and blush. 

And do you feel now, like Miss Ingelow’s 
little maiden that 

“ The books may close over 
For all the lessons are said.” 

No. I feel as if they never ought to be 
closed,” Bethia said, humbly. “There is so 
much to learn, that sometimes when I think of 
my ignorance I am appalled.” 

“ You need not be ; you will have all eternity 
to learn the true things in,” he answered, gently. 

“You haven’t changed, though you have 
been away three years,” Miss Jemima ob- 
served now. 

“ From what do you judge ? ” he asked, as 
they turned to go down the stairs. 

“ Ask Bethia, I can’t talk and go down these 
winding stairs,” Miss Jemima said, positively. 

Mr. Douglas looked at Bethia. “You are 
elected Miss Jemima’s interpreter,” he said, with 
playful seriousness. “ What does she mean? ” 


ALL THINGS SETTLED. 


319 


I suppose, that you haven’t lost your old 
way of making us all look up,” she answered, 
quaintly. 

Pleasant days, bright with a sunny atmos- 
phere in which both soul and body rejoiced, 
marked the next few weeks on Loneman’s 
Island. June with its fair, sweet freshness 
passed into the radiance of July, and that into 
the golden glory of August, and still on sea and 
land the warmth, and light, and joy of summer 
lingered. It was a season of unalloyed happi- 
ness for all who called the lighthouse home. 
Mr. Douglas remained there; trusted, relied 
on, and confided in by all ; Bethia read, and 
dreamed and thought the “ long thoughts of 
youth ; ” Mrs. Power and Mrs. Betty were in- 
terested in planning and arranging for their 
September fiight ; and David Power and Job 
banished, as far as possible, all thoughts of the 
change before them, and went about their daily 
work, and engaged in their accustomed pleas- 
ures, with the eagerness of men to whom every 
moment of the present was most dear. 

^‘Let us go fishing this afternoon,” David 
said one day, the week before they were to 
move. ‘‘Wq may not have another chance.” 

The afternoon promised to be a glorious one, 
though in the west a few dark, thunderous- 
looking clouds were massed. Bethia stood on 


320 


ON LONEMAN ’5 ISLAND. 


the shore, while her father and Mr. Douglas 
and Job launched their boat : they were going 
through the surf to Bass Inlet. Good-bye,” 
she called to them, and then she sought the 
little hollow, that was still her favorite retreat, 
and dropped down on the dry sand to read and 
dream. 

For a long while the sun was bright, and the 
air still and warm : but suddenly a shadow 
darkened the page she was reading, and the 
wind as it came whistling through the hollow 
felt very cold. Surprised at the change she 
looked up. Great, solemn clouds were spread- 
ing over the sky, the wind was lashing the 
ocean, and driving its roughened waves in 
angry haste shoreward, and its low chant of 
praise had changed to the sullen, threatening 
roar that always forebodes a storm. 

Without delay Bethia hurried home. The 
storm came on rapidly ; soon it grew dark, and 
as peal after peal of terrific thunder shook the 
house, even Mrs. Power, who seldom manifested 
fear, showed some alarm. 

“I believe it is the most frightful shower 
I have ever experienced,” she sighed. “ I wish 
your father was home.” 

Bethia’s heart echoed her mother’s wish, but 
she answered, bravely, “ God will keep them 
all safe, mother.” 


ALL THINGS SETTLED, 


321 


Mrs. Power sighed. “That lamp ought to 
be lit,” she said, dolefully, in a moment, as she 
looked at the clock. 

“ I will light it,” Bethia said. “ I know how, 
I am not afraid. I will stay up in the tower 
until father comes, he always watches the lamp 
in a storm, you know,” she added, thoughtfully, 
as she started on her errand. She had never 
lighted the lamp, but she had often watched 
her father light it. She knew there was no 
great risk nor danger for her to fear in lighting 
it now. It only required self-control and Bethia 
well knew that the truest self-control comes 
from trust in God. 

She ran up the long, winding stairway, and 
lit the lamp without dilRculty. Then, for a 
minute, she stood beside it and looked out into 
the dark, wild storm. She was one hundred 
and sixty feet above the ground. Below her 
the ocean was raging as if infuriated fiends 
were battling in it ; around her the wind was 
sweeping with frightful force, while the thunder 
rolled incessantly, and the lightning, with its 
lurid fiash, brightened the stormy night with 
a light more terrible than the darkness. Once, 
while she stood there, a storm-driven bird drawn 
by the light, beat its bruised wings against the 
lamp, and then fell to the ground beneath. 
Bethia uttered a cry of pain as she saw it. 

21 


322 ON LONEMAN ISLAND. 

“ I am in the heart of the storm, and it has no 
pity,” she thought, as she heard the clash, and 
felt the force, of nature’s fierce powers. She 
trembled nervously for a few seconds, and then 
memory, in its subtle working, brought out 
from its hiding place, where for years it had 
lain unthought of, the little poem Mr. Douglas 
had once given her. 

In just this very place of his, 

Where he hath put and keepeth you, 

God hath no other work to do.” 

As the sweet words came singing through 
Bethia’s mind her fears subsided. She drew 
back into a sheltered corner and sat down. 

“ No, I am not in the heart of the storm, I 
am in the heart of God,” she thought ; and 
calmed by that sure faith, a little weary, but 
no longer nervous nor afraid, she leaned her 
head against the wall, and soon fell asleep. 

Bethia,” some one called. With a start 
she opened her eyes. Her father and Mr. 
Douglas were standing beside her. 

“ I knew you would light the lamp, Beth,” 
David Power said, fondly, as he stooped and 
kissed her. 

Bethia sprang up. “ Are you all safe ? ” she 
cried. 

“ Perfectly safe,” Mr. Douglas said, reassur- 
ingly. 


ALL THINGS SETTLED. 


323 


Bethia laid her hand on her father’s sleeve. 
“ I thought you would be drenched,” she said. 

“No. We had our waterproof suits,” David 
answered. “We haven’t had any trouble. 
Our only anxiety has been about you.” 

“ I have been kept safe,” she said, simply. 

“ Well, now you must go down. I will stay 
up here until Job comes. Mr. Douglas, will 
you take care of her ? ” 

With a quiet “Yes,” Mr. Douglas took 
Bethia’s hand and led her down the stairs. 
Half way down they came to a landing where 
there was a narrow window. 

“ You are tired, let us rest here a minute,” he 
said, as he hung the lantern he was carrying on 
a hook in the wall. Bethia leaned against the 
window and looked out. The storm was still 
raging, but there were rifts in the clouds. 

“ It is passing ; it will soon be over now,” 
Mr. Douglas said, as he stood beside her. 
“ Bethia,” he asked, in a moment, “ of what 
did you think, up there in the very heart of the 
storm ? ” 

“ I thought just that,” she answered, quietly, 
“ and I found out that I wasn’t in the heart of 
the storm, at all.” 

“ Ah ! ” he said, in a voice that showed how 
well he understood her. 

“ It was a little poem you gave me once that 


324 


ON LON EM AN 'S ISLAND. 


helped me to know where I really was,” she 
said, sweetly. 

“ Tell it to me,” he said, and once again that 
night Bethia repeated the lines : 

‘‘ In just that very place of his, 

Where he hath put and keepeth you 
God hath no other work to do.” 

“ I thank you for that poem, Mr. Douglas,” 
she added, earnestly. 

He did not speak immediately, and wonder- 
ing a little at his silence Bethia looked out into 
the night. 

Presently he spoke. ‘^Bethia,” he said, 
“ your father gave you into my care to-night. 
Will you let me take care of you always, 
dear ? ” 

A silence that lasted several minutes followed 
that simple question. Presently Mr. Douglas 
spoke again. 

“ Bethia,” he said, “ do you ever mean to 
speak to me again ? ” 

“Yes,” she said, softly. 

“Is that the answer to both of my ques- 
tions ? ” he asked, joyously. “ Look round here. 
Tell me what you are thinking of.” 

She turned her face towards him, and by the 
light of the lantern he saw the sweet curve of 
her lips, and the moist light in her eyes. 


ALL THINGS SETTLED, 


325 


‘‘ I wonder if you remember that other little 
poem, in ‘ At the Back of the Is^orth Wind,’ 
that you once read me ? ” she said, gently. 

Of course I remember it. By what right 
do you assume that I have a poor memory about 
anything connected with you. Miss Power ? ” 
he said, playfully. And then, in a voice 
thrilled with the old memories and the present 
joy, he repeated ; 

“ ‘What would you see if I took you up 
To my little nest in the air ? ’ ” 

What has made you think of that, Beth, — 
now ? ” he asked, with a tender emphasis on 
the last word. 

She smiled a little, but her face flushed, and 
her lips trembled sensitively. 

“ I want you to help me to go up,” she 
whispered. 

“We will go up together,” he promised : and 
then, after a moment of tender silence, he said 
fondly ; 

“And now, my little mystic, as a prepara- 
tory step to our going up, I must take you 
down.” 

Another week passed ; and then those who 
had been so closely drawn together on Lone- 
man’s Island went forth to a new life rich in 
new duties. 


326 


ON LONEMAN'S ISLAND, 


Their lot was the common lot of all ; they 
served, they suffered, and they rejoiced. But 
by everjT- joy that crowned their lives, and by 
every sorrow that hallowed them, they were 
taught more perfectly this precious truth ; that 
it is by the stairway of love — love to the Father 
and love to all his children — that we climb up 
to heaven. 



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